


Waiting for Forever

by Ihopeitsbenign



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Complete, Consensual Infidelity, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Realistic, Schmoop, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihopeitsbenign/pseuds/Ihopeitsbenign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graduation approaches and Blaine and Sam discuss their future. "We have to last." Sam grumbled rewarding him with a kiss anyway. "If we get together as adults we are more likely to stay together." A chronicle of their lives over a ten-year span.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no affiliation to Glee or its characters. This is fiction pure and simple.  
> This story completely discounts the events of season 5.

"You didn't have to come over just because I didn't want to want to hang out." Blaine muttered flipping through the channels.

"Dude! It is Saturday night. What kind of bro would I be if I left you at home to moon over Kurt?"

"I'm not mooning over Kurt! Who even uses that word?"

"Then what's with the hair? Don't get me wrong I like it when it's more human than helmet but you are usually gelled nine ways to Sunday." Blaine recoiled as Sam's hand slid through his hair to prove his point making every hair on his body stand on end.

"I just can't - I think I'm still hangover from last weekend." Blaine lamely excused, flushing when Sam laughed out loud.

All week he'd been teased by the entire Glee club about how he brought the house down at Sugar Motta's house party. Even Mr. Shue had gotten in on the action making the 'Evils of Vices' this week's lesson. What Blaine needed was a 'stop crushing on your best friend' lesson and the sooner he got it the better because this thing he had for Sam was getting way out of hand.

Frustrated, he banged the remote against his head trying to push back the memories that danced behind his eyes. As always they tunneled through evoking shame, so much shame.

He'd left home with the best of intentions last Saturday. And a plan, a solid plan: one drink, one song then head home to practice his audition piece. Then Brittany had crawled into Sam's lap and began the filthiest lap dance in history, not caring that Blaine was wedged in right next to them. Close enough to hear the smacking when they started to kiss. Close enough to catch a glimpse of Sam's cock, ruddy, seeping, as her hand twisted into the open fly of his jeans. Close enough for Sam's hand to reach out and grab his hip, frantically edging up his thigh.

Blaine had scrambled over the back of the couch and headed for the makeshift bar. His second rum and coke couldn't erase the feeling of that hand on him. The third and fourth made him more reckless and he stopped pretending not to watch them. He was sure they were fucking in the corner by the bump and grind of Brittany's hips but he couldn't look away. Maybe if he watched them have sex even with jealousy and burning arousal churning his gut, he would finally get it. Sam was straight. He would never have him. And he would have stood there for as long as it took but Tina dragged him away with a sympathetic look and handed him the microphone. It all went downhill from there. To here.

Here where Sam met his gaze for a second before ducking his head and Blaine's heart started to thump because there was a chance that Tina had blabbed his secret. Here where it was suddenly too quiet in his bedroom, the awkward living breathing silence confirming his assumption.

Sam knows. He knows and you are going to get the let's just be friends speech. God! He was going to kill fucking Tina Cohen Chang. Okay. Calm down. Be normal. He reminded himself. Be normal until he leaves for his plans with Brittany at Breadstix or anywhere else on the planet that would require their ridiculously blond heads to touch.

When the tall lithe body suddenly shifted plopping in front of him, Blaine tugged his knees closer to his chest bracing for the blow he was sure was coming. Giving a longing look to the open doorway, he fought panic, his tense fingers digging into unyielding plastic until Sam tore the remote out of his hands thumbing the buttons absently in his.

Blaine wanted to yell at him to stop touching him and hugging him and just breathing because every move Sam made was making things worse instead of better. If you thought about it, this whole thing was Sam's fault. Really. The abs and the lips and…great now he sounded like a rapist.

"Blaine?"

"Sam, you don't have to babysit me. Don't you have a date with Britt?" If he smiled a little too bright when he said her name who would know?

"I want to be here."

"You can go." Blaine insisted.

With a huff of exasperation, Sam dropped the remote and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not saying this right."

"Saying what?" Blaine tilted his head staring with fake interest at his best friend. By the dim flickering of the TV he could barely make out the exact expression on Sam's face.

Sam cleared his throat and gave him a nervous smile. Now Blaine was anxious for him to get on with it so he could reassure him that he knew that nothing could ever happen between them. He knew Sam was straight, he valued their friendship, would never do anything to jeopardize it, blah blah blah...problem solved.

"I know that you've been avoiding me and I am sorry." Sam rushed out.

Sorry? For what? Blaine's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "I don't understand."

Sam was quiet for so long Blaine thought he'd reconsidered and he was torn between curiosity and relief. After a week of hiding from him he missed his goofy smile and crazy impressions.

"Less than 5% of high school relationships end in marriage." Sam blurted.

What?

"And I know I shouldn't be getting my information from Brittany or verifying it on Cracked but I also know for a fact that the chances of long distance relationships working out are even slimmer. Look at me and Mercedes…"

Blaine frowned trying to follow his train of thought. Then it hit him. No! Hell no! "Oh god! Don't tell me you are getting hitched for real this time?"

"NO!"

"Then what are you talking about?"

Making an impatient sound, Sam raised then dropped his arms. "You're going to New York." He stated. "I can't come with you."

"Oh Sam." Tension left Blaine's body and he scooted close enough to bump their knees. His friend was having another of his freakouts. This he could handle. Over the past year he'd become an expert at calming Sam down. He knew when to talk him up or talk him down as needed, ending up as a kind of life coach, cheerleader, best friend and occasional sidekick. "New York's not at the other end of the earth and it's not the middle ages. We will still see each other all the time. There's video chat and text and email and freaking Facebook…"

"You're not getting it." Sam interrupted.

"I can also write you an actual letter on like paper with stamps and everything." Blaine quipped trying to make him smile. His grin slipped when Sam merely groaned and dropped his face to his hands. Before he could ask what was up, Sam popped back up and leveled him with sad eyes brimming with meaning and intensity. Something was really wrong.

"I am screwing this up like I do everything else." Sam muttered before pushing on. "You make me happy, you know, when I'm with you I don't feel slow or…"

"You are not slow."

"Just listen. Please."

Blaine knew he was nodding, the same way he knew he was somehow still breathing but he could feel neither.

"I want to be near you all the time. At first I thought it was because you were my friend – best friend –" He amended.

Blaine's breath caught. His heart pounded in his chest doing the happiest of happy dances but his head insisted, this was a dream, he was dreaming. He had to be. But the furtive pinch he landed on his thigh fucking hurt as Sam continued breaking into his thoughts.

"Then you smiled at me one day and everything changed. I wanted to to-uch you." His voice broke a little. "I thought it was a fluke and the feeling would go away and I don't know if this means that I'm gay or what I should do about Britt or Kurt? Do I come out now? How do I tell my parents? And I shouldn't have looked at that website. So much thrusting. Damn Puckerman! I don't really want to think that you may not lo-like me the same way. Just cause you're gay doesn't mean you are attracted to every man..."

Alarmed by his tangent into hysteria Blaine reached out and rubbed his knee reassuringly and he calmed. Took a deep breath. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have touched you that night. Usually I think about doing it but I don't act on it but you were right there and I could smell your cologne, see your face…I have never been that turned on…"

"You touched me on purpose?" Blaine reeled, his world imploding.

"I thought you knew and that's why you drank – everything. I wanted to come after you but Britt was sitting - " He gestured at his crotch "on me and I didn't know what to say."

"Usually? What do you mean usually?"

Sam slanted him a knowing look bringing months of what he'd thought of as platonic touching into question.

"What are you saying? Exactly." Blaine pushed not wanting to jump on him without getting an actual verbal green light.

"I have feelings for you. I think I might even love you except I have been in love before and it didn't feel like this. This is more and I am losing it because you are leaving and I still need more time." The minor pause was not long enough for Blaine to think. "You deserve to be with someone as amazing as you are and I want to be with you more than anything but I don't know how to be gay. I'm not good enough for you now but I will get better. Smarter." He gave a rueful grin. "Gayer. In 10 years when you've won several Tonys and are the star of Broadway. I will be someone you can be proud to be seen with."

Blaine would be lying if he said he'd never pictured this moment. In fact he'd had several elaborate dreams in which Sam declared his love for him. In one he had been in full body armor riding a horse – serves him right for falling asleep re-watching Merlin - in none of them was he ever rendered speechless. Or found himself more ashamed of his crush on Sam because this was not the fanciful declaration from his fantasies. Sam was talking about forever. It was romantic as hell and absolutely terrifying.

"I will only strip for you if you want and I can get therapy, deal with my body dys – dyspho-"

"Dysmorphia."

"Yeah that. Don't write me off." He looked away again murmuring. "I just need some time to get right."

When Sam brushed a callused thumb across his cheek he realized that he was crying. "Sam. Sammy." Blaine surged to his knees cupping his gorgeous face waiting until Sam met his eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you." Even as Sam gave him a small smile he knew he didn't believe him so he zeroed in on the most important thing. "Ten years from today?"

Those perfect lips bloomed into a genuine smile. "Yes. Or from graduation. You choose."

"So I do have a choice?"

"Of course. I'm not going to force you into being with me…I had a proper speech but the words got jumbled in my head…I wrote some of it down." Sam dug through the pockets of his jeans dragging a crumpled piece of paper into the light. "Son of a bitch." He muttered to himself, squinting at the squiggly lines as he flattened the list on his knee. "Sorry, my handwriting is terrible. Principle Figgins was coming and I spilled my soda…"

Blaine's smile got bigger the more he struggled to explain. This was better than any perfect declaration of love he had envisioned in his dreams.

The kiss caught Sam by surprise and he paused sucked in his breath then pushed forward meeting him halfway with a desperate hunger. His big hand slid into dark curls gripping a handful, and tilting Blaine's head, slashing his mouth over his. Those lips. Were. Absolute heaven. They crashed to the carpet in a moaning, grinding panting pile. Sam covering him with his body, greedy kisses getting a little sloppy because neither of them could stop smiling or shaking or fucking smiling.

Breathless with desire Blaine licked down the powerful cord of Sam's neck reveling in his needy moans. Desperate to assuage the fire stoking higher in his groin he shoved up his T-shirt stroking his hard abdomen. The "God. Blaine stop." went unheard.

"Blaine" Sam grabbed his hands pinning them over his head. Their gazes locked. He took comfort in the fact Sam was breathing as hard as he was. Harder. The flex of hard hands on his wrists send a shiver down his spine eliciting a new feeling that he wouldn't mind exploring until Sam rolled off of him, crashing still breathless by his side. He chuckled. "Do I really have to wait years to do that again?"

"We have to last." Sam grumbled rewarding him with a kiss anyway. "If we get together as adults we are more likely to stay together."

For Sam it was that simple. He was giving them the best chance, the only way he knew how. Blaine twisted, his forehead meeting the cool curve of his friend's neck and he inhaled dragging the heady scent into his nostrils letting it fill his lungs.

"I pick today." He whispered lips brushing his neck. Committing to everything.

"Okay." Sam sighed leaning into his touch. "I like you like this." He mumbled.

"Like what?"

"Fuzzy. Warm." Sam's hands run through his hair, scraped down his chin before tracing the exposed skin on his lower abdomen. Blaine let out a tiny gasp before clamping his lips shut. The maddening circles incredibly intimate in the dimly lit room. Side by side, Sam scooted closer with a lazy smile tangling their denim-clad legs, his warm hand sliding over Blaine's hip, lingering at the small of his back then stroking up his spine.

Letting out another shaky breath, Blaine peeped up at his face arrested by the sheer contentment revealed there. Disappointed he berated his overeager cock. This is not what this night was about. As much as he wanted the lips and the hands and torrid exultant fumbling, getting the quiet and the safe and the love was even better.

Minutes passed in amiable silence. At the first snort, Blaine jerked then suppressed a giggle as Sam started snoring. Who knew such a pretty mouth would make such an ugly sound? Adjusting the arm that was hanging limp on his waist, Blaine flipped onto his back resting his head on a firm shoulder. The promises uttered over the last hour hitting him all at once.

Exhilarated panic swept through him lifting him to great heights and tossing him to low lows.

When he woke up this morning, his only desire was to survive the transition from high school to college intact, now he stood on the precipice of love. Scary forever love.

A year ago this straighter than gay man-boy was not what he envisioned for his life. A day ago he paced his room going through the ritual of talking himself out of his ridiculous crush. An hour ago he'd kissed him without giving Kurt a second thought even though he wanted a second chance with him. God! Kurt! Okay technically he wasn't cheating because they were broken up.

Confused, he fought the urge to wake Sam up and confirm the parameters of their 'deal'. Could they both see other people or were they in a ten-year holding pattern? Why did the thought of Sam with anyone else make him want to throw up? What were they doing? This was completely insane. Insanely romantic but still crazy.

Except it was Sam, his Sam. Big smile, soft heart Sam. Sam needed looking after, he needed someone who understood him and loved him completely even when he didn't love himself. Blaine could do that; he was already half in love with him and he could think of nothing better than a lifetime spent with this boy, loving and being loved by him.

"Goodnight Sammy." He whispered brushing a soft kiss on his cheek, starting a ritual that would become just theirs for years to come.


	2. Year One: Paper

Blaine shifted the grate of the fire escape slicing into his butt. Reaching up he grabbed the railing waiting for Sam to pick up the phone. When he did he jumped in a little too breathy. "Hi"

"What's up man?"

Sam's response was a little lackluster. "You got my gift, right?" Oh god! Was it too much?

"The singing telegram? It was insane."

Finally. Some emotion.

"The killer clown, ninja, power ranger wielding the guitar butchering Kenny Rogers? Stevie saw him and freaked out. That was my bad I shouldn't let him watch Supernatural, then Stacey laughed at him so hard – girls can be so mean - I don't know if the funny bone is a real thing but I think she broke hers.

"Power Ranger?" Blaine spluttered. "I said tasteful. He was supposed to be dressed nice, bowtie optional."

"I think he was from a kids birthday party and wore all his costumes," Sam sniggered. "Or he escaped from serial killer's basement in a mental hospital."

"This is a disaster." Blaine moaned. "Did you at least get the Bamboo plant? Its supposed to bring you luck and Feng Shui related stuff that Tina explained to me."

"Well, he gave me a massive bouquet of red roses?"

"Oh God!"

"I didn't know they made ribbons that big. Or in that shade of pink."

"Roses? Pink?" Blaine cursed under his breath. "I'm going to call that charlatan and demand my money back."

"Dude, what gives? It's not my birthday for another couple of months."

"It's an…" Sam didn't even remember. He felt so stupid. "It's an anniversary present for our first anniversary."

"Oh man, I'm so sorry. I didn't get you anything."

"I wanted to make you happy." Now he made Sam feel bad, great. "Just tell me you're okay?"

"I'm okay."

After graduation, Sam had decided to take a year off to figure out what he wanted to do with his life so he'd moved back home with his family. Blaine wished he could see his face, know for sure that Sam was okay in Kentucky, far away from all their friends. He had to be lonely. Maybe if he'd remained in Lima, close to Finn and Puck, he wouldn't worry so much about him. As it was he called him every day without fail, he knew what it felt like to be abandoned by someone you loved and he wouldn't do that to him.

"The flowers weren't so bad." Sam appeased. " And the song he did was pretty cool. 'What that means' is country gold, man. You can never go wrong with Kenny Rogers."

"I have never heard it."

When Sam cleared his throat and started to sing, Blaine stopped, thinking, worrying. Just listened.

I don't know if I should tell you

That you've been in my dreams

I can't control how you come and go

And I know what that means

I don't know if I should kiss you

That might cause a scene

But I can hardly resist your smile

And I know what that means

Right when I didn't expect it

You caught me off guard

My heart was unprotected

Now I'm falling hard

"The lyrics repeat after that." Sam sounded embarrassed after the impromptu serenade.

"I think that was better than what I chose." Way better.

"Katy Perry?"

"Yeah."

"You are so predictable." Blaine was about to interject when Sam continued. "I have some news. Its kinda big so – drum roll please – I'M MOVING."

Blaine's jaw dropped. Sam was moving? To New York? On the one hand, it would be amazing to have him around. He missed him like crazy. On the other he hadn't told anyone about them, the 'them' that was planning to be together in the future. His head spun just imagining trying to explain it to Kurt or Rachel. He could already hear Santana's mockery. Once it got out his phone would blow up with the entire Glee club, past and present members demanding an explanation. They would think he turned Sam. He might as well start handing out business cards. Blaine Anderson. Predatory Gay.

"Blaine?"

He shook off his uncertainty. "That is great news, Sam. How soon are you leaving?"

"At the crack of dawn. What time exactly is that?" Sam mused. "I'm driving down…"

"Driving across the country by yourself? I'm not sure how I feel about that. It could be dangerous."

"Don't worry, Mom. I can take care of myself."

"Ha. Ha" Blaine mocked. "You are not funny."

"I have travelled alone before and after two days of living out of my car it will be nice to put my feet up at Mercedes' crib."

Wait. "Mercedes?" Blaine asked stupidly. He was moving even further away. "You are moving to LA?"

"Yeah we were talking…"

"Do you two talk a lot?" This was news to him. Sam and him talked all the time, he never mentioned Mercedes or Quinn or Brittany. Was he talking to them too?

"Yeah. Anyway we were talking and she suggested I move over there maybe give the music thing a go. It beats sitting on my ass in nowhere, Kentucky, delivering pizzas."

"I thought you didn't want to leave your parents alone. What about Stacey and Stevie? They need their big brother around." Blaine scrambled for excuses. The thought of Sam in fucking California living with his ex made his blood boil. Where was this possessive crap coming from? A minute ago you didn't want him in New York.

"I think my parents are sick of me moping around the house and I don't know how much of a role model a loser older brother is for Stacey or Stevie. I want them to look up to me."

"You are not a loser, Sam."

"I know but if I stay here because I'm too afraid to take a chance on anything, I will be."

There was no argument to refute that. Blaine was going to keep trying anyway when Kurt popped through the open window startling him.

"Wrap it up, Anderson. We are going to be late. You don't want to keep Madame Berry waiting you know how she gets."

Rachel had a new lead in a play and was getting crazy imperious. More than usual. He wasn't being bitchy when he said it was an off, off, off Broadway play. Okay, maybe a little bitchy. He would have totally gotten a part in it as well but he'd been planning Sam's surprise and missed his audition. Devine Burke outright refused to let him audition afterward. God! NYADA was crawling with divas.

"Is that Kurt?" Sam's tone changed.

"Yes." A sudden feeling of intense guilt made Blaine explain. "I'm at his apartment. Rachel is having her big opening tonight so we figured we'd go together." He held his breath, waiting. If Sam asked a pointed question about his interaction with Kurt, which was mostly sexual in nature these days, he was going to lie.

"It's cool. You go have fun. I need to start packing." Sam hang up.

Start?

Disheartened, Blaine crawled through the open window.

"Is that Sam?"

Blaine perched on the edge of the bed watching Kurt primp in front of the mirror. He didn't want to tell him but he desperately need to discuss with someone what Sam's move meant. Especially since it was further away from Blaine. Was that a conscious act on his part? Maybe Sam was trying to tell him something. Like he'd changed his mind about their deal.

Since that perfect Saturday a year ago, they had slipped back into their comfortable friendship of video games and movies - bro stuff. It felt like their future had been shoved into the back seat never to be mentioned again. It was frustrating and Blaine hadn't known how to ask Sam which was why he made such a big – disastrous – fuss over their anniversary. He had been fishing for an 'I love you' or any sort on indication that they were still meant to be.

"He's moving to LA."

Kurt spun round in that effortlessly graceful way that was purely Kurt and gaped at him. "OM – Christ! Sam and Mercedes are shacking up! Facebook Alert! Where is my phone? I wonder how her Jesus feels about all that unsanctioned premarital sex."

Blaine trailed after him. "They are not shacking up."

"Don't bite my head off."

"I'm not-" He kind of had though, Kurt echoing his unvoiced thoughts was pissing him off. "They are living together, it's a purely platonic arrangement based primarily on financial need."

"Platonic will go out the window when Sam's shirt does, that boy is like the Hulk, no clothing can contain him." Kurt dug underneath the couch tossing a bright red bra his way muttering about Quinn's slutty ways.

Leaping over the discarded garment, Blaine stood next to him. "They are just friends." He insisted. "Besides they tried to make it work twice and failed."

"They failed both times because one of them was moving away. Now they will be in the same State, same apartment." He jumped back up, phone in hand. " Think about it. One day the air conditioning will go out, Sam will have to strip down to his skivvies and a light blush and my girl will pounce. I know I would." He said slyly. "What? I'm very imaginative and creative and I may or may not have once had a tinny tiny crush on Sam."

"You like him?" Blaine barely managed to contain his snarl. This whole conversation was giving him hives.

"Liked. Past tense. I have too much self-respect to spend my life chasing after a hetero. I adore Sam but I guarantee he's going to step off the bus and find himself on a casting couch under some cougar or eating bugs on a reality show before the week is out. I'm not sure which one of those fates is worse.

"He's not that –"

"Gullible? Really? Do I need to revisit the Mayan fiasco? Sam has so many desirable qualities the top two of which are hotness and sweetness and there are tons of people lining up round the block to take advantage of either. Let's go."

I should call Sam back. Humph and say what? Don't get back together with Mercedes? Do not get in cars in strangers and I forbid you from having sex with anyone. He couldn't run his life.

"Hey?" Solemn, Kurt turned back at the door, slipping on his coat. "You are okay with this thing we are doing?"

"The rampart unsanctioned damning premarital sex? Yes."

"I don't want you to feel used."

"I'm more than okay with it but you should stop letting Adam drag you into his head games."

Adam and Kurt were too much alike, fiery, impulsive and so dramatic. It made for a tumultuous union. They broke up constantly and Kurt inevitably ended up in bed with Blaine invoking their bro helping bros agreement. Then him and Adam would make up starting the whole vicious cycle all over again.

"You need someone who will ground you and at the same time let you be Kurt."

"Someone like you?"

"I wasn't so good to or for you." Blaine dodged, throwing up his past infidelity as a shield. Honestly he was happy with their arrangement especially the part where Kurt didn't consider him as a real future prospect because Blaine had plans, with his hetero. He should call Sam; standing in front of him was a prime example of what not talking did to a relationship.

"Could you give me a second?"

"I know that look. Calling Sam again? You just talked to him. What is with you two?"

"Nightbird and Blonde Chameleon stuff."

"Argh" Kurt swept out the door yelling. "Make it quick."

Blaine moved quickly to the neatly remade bed and grabbed his iPhone finding mail from Sam entitled 'I will not be alone.' He opened the attached photo and sagged back onto the bouncy mattress. The picture of Sam holding up a tiny puppy with shaggy black fur and big brown eyes sucked him into a vortex of cuteness.

He couldn't stop smiling as he dialed Sam. "That is the cutest guinea pig on the planet."

"Hey" Sam protested laughing. "Don't insult Dalton. He's all dog."

"You named him Dalton?"

"Dalton Warbler Evans to be exact. He kind of looks like you."

Blaine snorted. "He does not."

"He has your eyes."

Blaine gave a halfhearted protest, about to crack in half from the silly smile on his face. "Now I have to worry about both of my guys somewhere out there in the world? Without me?"

"We'll be thinking of you. Everyday."

"Oh Sam" He sighed, rubbing at his chest where his heart hurt. "Are we still doing this? Us?"

Sam's voice shook when he spoke. "Have you changed your mind?"

Blaine smiled. Again. "No. Never. I just needed to hear you say it." He turned at the impatiently yelled Blaine. Kurt was back."

"I have to go. I lo- Uh! Be safe, Sammy."


	3. Year Two: Cotton

"You're staring." Sam mumbled.

"I just – I can't believe you're here." Blaine dropped his gaze perusing the brightly colored sunglasses on the rack. This lasted only a second, his eyes creeping over to keep staring at Sam. "You look so different."

"Good different?"

Since Sam showed up suddenly on his doorstep this morning Blaine felt like he was in a dream sequence. Even though they talked all the time, he hadn't seen him in person in over fourteen months. Sam looked taller, blonder. "Incredible different." He mumbled, skin heating.

The sides of Sam's mouth lifted in a self-conscious smile, their eyes meeting and dropping. Nerves zinged between them making the bittersweet union even more awkward. "So Mike and Tina are back on?" He asked.

"I have no idea what's going on with those two." Blaine laughed, happy to focus on other dysfunctional couples. "Tina showed up in tears two days ago, screaming about how all men are crap and she was going to pull a 'Quinn'. Five hours later, Mike was at my door and they've been glued at the tonsils ever since. I couldn't get a wink of sleep for all their making up. Loudly. All night. Now I don't know if they are dating or if their relationship is just specific to my couch."

"Isn't that weird?"

"I'm currently immune to weird." Blaine leaned over checking out his refection in the mirror. The yellow frames just didn't have the same impact as the pink. "It was getting over crowded at the Bushwick loft so I gave Rachel an emergency key for when Jake and Marley had interviews at NYU. Now I'm never sure who I will find on that couch in the morning. Britt and Santana. Naked Brody. Drunk Artie. Devastated Finn. Brody and Quinn – that one's a secret so you can't tell anyone - Brittany running from Santana. Jake and Ryder – Yeah that happened. An absolutely terrifying crying makeup-less Kitty. Puck. Puck. Puck. Tina. Now Mike. There are sounds that have come out of my living room in the dead of night that I will never be able to get out of my head."

"It's like you're running a sanctuary for the super horny."

"Mostly for the desperate. Given how incestuous the group is, I'm not surprised by all the sex." Blaine dropped the glasses as Sam dragged him out of the store. Falling into step beside him, they took another turn around the block while they waited for Mike and Tina to get decent and get the hell out of his apartment. "But they are my friends and I like being needed. As long as they restock the fridge, clean up after themselves and none of them sleeps in my bed, ever, they can stay as long as they want."

Walkin along in a weird silence, hands bumping Blaine glanced up at Sam arrested by the waythe late morning sun turned his hair to gold. Stop staring. He reminded himself eyes still lingering on his profile. Why isn't he saying anything? At a loss of what to do he continued to try to fill in the silence. Maybe if he talked enough…

"And once, I found Lord Tubbington, I'm not kidding, I opened my door and there he was. Staring at me with those eyes. It was like all those stories Britt told about him didn't seem so made up….argh." He shrieked as something brushed his nape. He turned round to find Sam's grinning at him, lips stretched wide, eyes dancing.

"Dammit Sam. S'not funny." He walked ahead then paused realizing Sam had stopped a few feet behind. Looking up he realized he was home. With a sheepish smile he walked back heading up the concrete stairs.

"You talk a lot when you're nervous." Sam said.

With his feet in the first step Blaine turned, the added height putting his eyes level with Sam's amused green ones. "You don't." What else could he add? That he was floundering in front of this man whose future he was promised.

Sam shuffled forward, his head tilted. "I miss you." Blaine inhaled sharply as their fronts touched. "I didn't really understand what you were doing last year with the flowers and the ninja…"

"Not a ninja."

"But I get it now. I saved all year to get here so I could tell you that I understand. Today is ours."

God, his lips and the sweet things they said.

"We can be romantic and stuff. Right? I can hold your hand –" The warm palm twined with his pulling him impossibly closer. "And I get to call you honey instead of dude or bro or bromigo…"

Smiling Blaine leaned into him. "Honey?"

"Yes because today I get to tell you what I think about the other 364 days of the year. Like how much I love your eyes. Your beautiful honey eyes. How it kills me every time you look at me. How I want kiss you all the time."

Blaine shuddered, his lips a mere hairs breadth from his. "My god Sammy. You can't say stuff like that and expect me not to kiss you."

A shrieked, 'Oh my god' shattered their closeness. Blaine eyes slipped shut, disappointment riding him. Fucking Tina Cohen Chang. He really was going to kill her. Sam's hand squeezed his as they turned around but he didn't let go. The flabbergasted pair above them gaped back. Blaine didn't think he'd ever seen Tina's eyes look bigger as she pointed speechless between them. Or that Mike face could achieve that particular shade of puce.

"Wha - when?"

"Um –" Blaine turned to Sam for help meeting his equally clueless stare but before they could decide what label to put on them.

Mike swore, maneuvering his girl past them with a hissed. "God Tina! Can't you see they want to be alone?"

"This is not over, Blaine." She yelled. "I demand details."

Watching them leave, Blaine hustled Sam inside, up the stairs and into the recently vacated apartment. Just inside the door he faced him, contrition oozing from every pore. "I am so sorry, Sam. I should have been more careful."

"Why?"

"Sam-" How wasn't he getting it? Or freaking the fuck out. "You are being strangely cavalier about this for someone who just got shoved out of the closet."

"It was bound to come out sometime. This way is easier; we don't have to make a big announcement. Tina can do it for us." Sam said pushing past him and striding into the living room. Blaine followed him finding him standing indecisive by the infamous pull out couch. "Unless there's another reason you don't want everybody to know?"

"Me? No! I want you to be okay." Edging forward Blaine slipped his hand back in Sam's "Besides this means you can spend the night right? And I can bar the door and keep the rest of Lima out. And I can come see you in LA without worrying about what Mercedes will think."

"You can come see me in Nashville."

"What?" Blaine backed away. "You're moving? Again?"

"Yeah. Emery says if you want to break into the country music scene moving to Nashville is the best way to do it. I did some research and found this article online in which Blake Shelton attributes his success to leaving his hometown to pursue his career in Tennessee. So it must be true."

"Emery? The girl you just let in your band?"

"Yeah."

"Is that what you want? Nashville and…" Girls in your band. "Wait! What happened with Mercedes?"

"She's blowing up right now. You heard her new single, it's freaking incredible. I want the same thing, you know. I've gotta try to make something of myself." The 'for you' hang between them.

"I can wait tables and park cars anywhere." Sam shrugged clearly unconcerned to be traversing the country to chase down yet another dream. "I know how you worry but I am not doing this alone. All the guys are driving down in the van with Dalton. We'll get a place and all crash together. It will be like an adventure."

"Five guys crammed into one tiny apartment? Sounds –" Blaine paused trying to be diplomatic. "Uncomfortable."

"You could come check it out over the summer."

"No offence but I'm not…"

"The type to slum it." Sam's wave encompassed the spacious apartment.

Blaine looked around. This wasn't the abode of a typical college student. His parents had insisted primarily on him being in a safe neighborhood and since they tended to throw money at him to compensate for their absence, he had found a nice slightly expensive place to live. "I'm not a snob, Sam. I have been camping before. The fact that I will never voluntarily do it again is neither here nor there. And how does it work with Emery? Does she get her own place? I can't imagine any girl would want to deal with that mess."

"She's not a prima donna like most girls, she's really cool." Coming off Blaine's refusal to stay over, it made him sound really uptight. Being fastidious wasn't a flaw. It wasn't a crime to want things, neat and clean.

After circling the couch for the third time, Sam perched on one of the fat arms. "What's going on with you anyway? For someone who was dying to get into NYADA you don't seem super excited to be there."

Blaine shrugged. "I love it but I'm so tired most of the time that I don't know that I love it." He caught Sam's puzzled frown. "Does that make any sense?"

"No"

Sitting on the coffee table in front of him, he tried to explain. "New York is the greatest city on earth if you like living in an ant colony, which I do but I miss – connecting with people, you know. And being at NYADA is a lot to take in, the students are passionate, ambitious, incredibly driven, and the faculty is hypercritical. It is a lot of pressure. Performing on stage - the lights and the applause - is the only time I feel like I'm right where I need to be."

"You're lucky. Emery says the same thing; being on stage makes her feel alive or something. I don't get it. I don't feel that way about anything yet."

Emery. Blaine had heard her name often times over the past two months. Emery says this and Emery thinks that. It hadn't been a problem but for some reason when Sam said it now with that look on his face, Blaine heard alarm bells.

"Speaking of Em - how did she end up as lead singer of your band?"

"She hates being called Em."

Of course

"I know you think I'm the shit but you haven't watched us perform. Emery's got all this crazy energy, it drives crowd wild. Making her lead was the smart decision. Be happy that I'm finally making some smart decisions."

"I want you to be happy. Whether it's with a Country Rock band or apparently with Emery."

"It's not like that."

"Then tell me what it is like." Bitterness coated pain. Pushing to his feet, Blaine started to pace. "Sam, we are twenty years old. I'm not naïve enough to believe that you aren't sleeping with anyone without coming across like a hypocrite. But I - I thought we – weren't doing serious with anyone else."

"It's not serious."

By this point Blaine was way past rational. "Is that why you came all this way? To tell me about your new relationship?"

"Calm down, okay. There is no relationship. Emery and I are just hooking up. It means nothing."

"It means nothing now."

"I don't understand you when you go all robot."

Blaine's brow furrowed his brain making the connection. Robot – robot lingo – cryptic. Explain. "I mean you fall in love real easy, Sam."

"At least I'm not making plans to buy lighthouses and go antiquing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Kurt, your soul mate. You so conveniently left his name out of that long list of Glee alumni." Freezing, Blaine stared back at him. "I know Ryder and Jake have a thing now and Tina is really loud in bed but what about Kurt? The love of your life."

"Sam –" He stumbled forward, stopping when Sam backed away. Okay truth time, he clenched his fist; skin clammy, heart rate tripling. "We are - were hooking up from time to time but it means nothing."

"I tell everybody I meet about you. I told Emery the very first day she made a move that it could only ever be just sex between us because I have someone. I have you." Giving him a small sad smile, Sam sank back onto the couch. "Have you told anyone?"

Blaine crossed his arms and shook his head.

"That's why you're worried about Tina blabbing."

"I was scared for you."

"No. You're worried about how Kurt will react." He sighed, miserable. "If you can't tell him then what we have –" Sam gestured between them. "This is not real."

The buzzing of Sam's cell startled Blaine and he vaguely followed the conversation when Sam put it on speaker. It was Mike warning them that Tina had told – well, everybody and they were all coming over.

Blaine ducked his head ashamed. He had been hiding the status of their relationship, hoarding it really but not for the reason Sam thought. Deep down, a part of him struggled to believe that this was real, if he told everyone and Sam changed his mind, decided he wasn't gay, met some girl and left him. Everybody would know.

He had been avoiding Kurt for the past couple of weeks, pushing him back towards Adam or anybody that was not him because he was waiting for Sam to be ready. So he waited and turned down dates from all the guys - and girls - who asked him out because dating for him was like taking a staircase that went nowhere. All they'd every get out of him was conversation and maybe sex. He was already irrevocably committed to Sam. Every emotion, every shred of feeling was saved for him. How could he not know that?

As Sam hang up, he rushed forward, "Listen to me, Sammy. I want you." The quieter Sam was the faster his heart rate got. "I want what we could have, will have in eight years. I will tell Kurt everything. There is no one for me but you."

When Sam's arms slipped around his waist he sagged against him in relief.

"I'm sorry, I'm so insecure." He mumbled lips brushing against his forehead.

"You can have whatever you need from me. Okay?" Blaine snuggled in closer. "Time. Distance. Emery."

"She's not important to me."

"I know." Blaine wrapped his arms around his neck brushing their lips. "Just - Don't fall in love with her. Remember you are mine."

"I promise." Sam replied just before the door burst open with Santana leading the charge.


	4. Year Three: Leather

"Please be here." Blaine muttered, rapping his fist on yet another nondescript door. He had been on the move for hours. Tearing from his apartment when he received mail from Santana entitled, 'Trouty mouth gone wild!' The video link was from a shaky cell phone and he'd seen enough of Sam's naked torso and his miserable face to catch the next flight out to Nashville.

Navigating the foreign city had been torture and by sheer chance he reached Sam's apartment only to be informed that Sam had moved out two days ago. Without an ounce of concern, Emery had given him a disinterested stare, scribbled an address on paper and slammed the door in his face. The neighborhood he stood in was run down and his unease grew exponentially when the cab driver ripped the bill out of his hand and burnt rubber on his way out.

"Be here." Blaine's knuckles met air, as the door was yanked open. He was immediately assaulted by the distinct stench of pot and- he wrinkled his nose – paint? A shirtless green streaked man blocked his way, a dripping paintbrush and lit joint clutched in one hand.

"I'm looking for Sam Evans." He coughed, the smoky haze created an actual physical barrier.

"You the boyfriend?"

"Uh?"Blaine considered the question. Was he the boyfriend? He did refer to Sam as his boyfriend in his head, which was kind of pathetic really.

"Dude?" The longhaired man swayed unsteadily still staring at him expectantly with a raised brow.

"Yes." He answered. "I am the boyfriend."

"Cool. Sam's through there." He waved at an open door. Eyes watering, Blaine cautiously edged through the entryway keeping a cautious eye on the battered grey door that hang on its hinges. Jagged lines raced from a huge dent in the middle as if from a heavy boot or a police issue battering ram.

Stunned, he stopped just inside the room, his eyes tracing the elaborate mural that covered the walls ceiling and was stretching onto the floor. Vibrant colors created an otherworldly universe.

Blaine might have stood there forever but for the enthusiastic barking, his only warning before he was hit with a blur of black fur. "Hey boy!" He greeted Dalton squatting to hug the midsize Terrier mix. The cool wet nose rubbed against his neck, pink tongue lolling and Blaine patted the furry dog. "Don't worry boy. I'm going to get you out of here."

Pushing through another door, he blinked momentarily, the brilliance of light in this room a sharp contrast to the darkened hallway. Dalton raced past him jumping onto the rumpled bed covers. He circled before lying down and resting his shaggy head on his paws, brown eyes asking, 'What next?'

"What are you doing here?"

Puzzled by the hostile tone, Blaine turned round. His jaw dropped at the sight of Sam or a version of Sam who'd been buffed, plucked, hair professionally styled and dyed. The only word that could fully describe him was shiny.

"Your uh roommate let me in"

"Levi. We bar tend together. He's a tortured artist/tagger."

Unable to hold back, Blaine finally exploded. "Oh god! What have they done to you?"

Patting the immoveable white blond coif, Sam mumbled embarrassed. "It's all lopsided and it won't go down."

He would have laughed but for Sam's glare that turned into a fierce scowl when a snicker escaped.

"You're such an ass." He snapped.

Blaine couldn't take it personally especially since Sam was suddenly clinging to him harder than a child to a favored toy. Holding him tight, Blaine could finally breathe, his hands rubbing up and down his back. He felt different, leaner. The attention the band had been receiving lately must have pushed him over the edge making him push his body harder. How many hours had he been spending in the gym?

"Have you been eating?" He asked with as little judgment as possible. Blaine caught himself, stumbling a little when Sam abruptly let him go.

"I'm okay." Sam grumbled, dodging his eyes. He grabbed the duffel off the floor, one battered sneaker tumbling out. Snatching it up he shoved it into the depths of the olive bag, stuffing two t-shirts after it.

"I saw the video."

A subtle tic was the only indication that Sam had heard him.

"Sam, what happened?" Blaine insisted despite the forbidding countenance. "You were doing so well. Just last week you called me super excited about your manager setting you up on an a radio interview with a local station."

"It was for a college radio station, nothing special."

Nothing special? Blaine had been up on phone all night because Sam kept calling to rehash their conversation and ask what impressions he should use to wow them. "Sam?" He reached for the lone sock just before Sam did holding it hostage. "Tell me what happened."

"You didn't have to come all this way to tell me I fucked up."

"Stop using anger to deflect and talk to me." Blaine held his gaze using silence to do what words couldn't until Sam sighed exasperated.

"Walter set up a new website where the fans can make requests during the concert." He started. "They can vote for a particular song or ask us to do certain things for them. At first it was simple stuff like sing happy birthday, a kiss…It was supposed to be a way for us to stand out from all the other bands trying to get record deals but it got weird."

"That's how you ended up…"

"Under a halogen lamp in leopard print Y fronts being groped by some old dude in front if a screaming crowd of 'fans'?"

"Yeah" Blaine drew out.

"On some level I knew it was going to happen, call it my stripper Spidey sense." Sam laughed humorless at the quip, snatching a white vest out from under Dalton. "When Walter handed me those Tarzan rejects I knew it was coming, he'd been pushing us further with every show but the guys were happy. We were finally getting some attention and I didn't want to let them down."

Blaine followed the motion of his hands, the fabric losing shape as he wrung the vest through his hands, his body revealing a lot more emotion than his tone of voice.

"I thought he would stop it. Even when he called that guy up on stage I thought he would stop it." Somehow Sam's long fingers found a loose thread and he pulled at it, unraveling stitches. "No one said anything, not Nate or Jared. Emery was probably just relieved that it wasn't her."

"After the show I couldn't – think – I - Then I got home and found these comments on the website; all these perfect strangers tossing digital slushies at my face." He picked up his cell phone, white cotton escaping relieved. "It's worse than high school at least back then you knew who was out to get you."

"It can't be that bad."

Blaine caught the phone flung at him and reluctantly began to read the posts.

"Ken doll?" He asked at the beginning type.

"Yeah. Inventive huh?" Sam jeered. "They don't even see me as a person, just a douchebag made of plastic."

"Sam" He scanned the elaborate website. "Cyberbullies are cowards. Jealous, spineless cowards hiding in anonymity flinging insults at people more talented, better looking than they are. Neither of them are half the man you are."

Scrolling down Blaine searched for a good post, one to emphasize his point but even the positive entries focused on describing Sam's body in twisted pornographic details that him feel a little sick.

"After he saw that one," Sam jabbed the phone, pointing out one particularly detailed entry. "Walter said I should always play shirtless. Give the customers what they want." Sam regarded him with haunted eyes, chewing on his lower lip, at war with himself before he said. "I don't want to do this anymore. I hate everything about it, people judging me constantly… I can't do it."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Sam." Blaine slipped an arm around Sam's waist giving him a quick hug. "Come home with me." He offered eagerly.

For a moment, Sam let himself be held then he pulled back. "I want to but I can't. Not yet."

"But…" Blaine floundered. "You can't be thinking of staying here?"

"I need to get as far away from this place as possible," Shadows crossed Sam's gorgeous face and he looked lost all over again. "But I can't come with you."

Taking a deep breath, Blaine tried to contain himself as disappointment pushed down heavy on his shoulders. "Why not?"

Sam's lips tightened into a thin line. "And what will I do in New York? You have school and work. I have nothing there."

"You have me." Blaine rocked back, hurt. He had been so sure Sam would want to leave with him. He had made so many plans on the flight down.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean, Sam?" He asked despite the lump in his throat. "I may not have all the answers but we can figure it out together."

"Honey" Sam shook his head sadly. "You can't save me. I fucked up. Me! Not you. I trusted the wrong people and I lost everything. It was a hard lesson to learn but I know that now."

"Sammy" Blaine implored throat aching with emotion. "I am right here. Why you won't let me help you? Just this once." He bit his tongue as the other words threatened to push through. Tell him, they whispered. Tell him the road to the top is hard and you miss him. Tell him your friends are all crazy and Kurt hasn't really looked at you since you told him. Tell him sometimes you're so lonely, you think you will die. Tell him, they screamed. But he couldn't let them loose. Only one of them could break down at a time.

"I don't want to get used to being rescued," Sam begged for understanding. "It will make it easier for me to screw up. And before you know it, you'll be Batman and I will be Robin. Except instead of helping you save lives and stuff I will be like this weird househusband who gets ignored by your friends because all I can talk about is-' He gestured upset. "recipes and couponing and how much time I spend in the gym to keep you interested and all our friends can witness my truly epic failure to launch."

With those words Sam depicted a bleak future for both of them. "I don't want you to carry me forever. I don't want to become a burden."

Blaine had never felt so helpless. When you love someone you should know exactly what to do when they were hurting. He didn't know what to do. "What can I do?"

Sam flipped open one of the dusty drawers and pulled out battered hair clippers with a ragged cord. Handing it to Blaine, he pointed to his head, hair follicles still looking terrified and said, "Take it all off."

xxXxx

Jiggling the key once more, Blain disengaged the lock slipping into the open sliver. Finding the apartment softly lit he swore under his breath, dropping his bag.

Tonight of all nights he didn't need company or to be confined to his room while other couples celebrated their unions in his home. Spinning he rested his forehead on the cool wood wondering if it was too late to escape. He wasn't in the mood to dodge Santana's poisoned barbs or Marley's soft eyes. More than anyone, she brought up Sam constantly like invoking his name would help Blaine cope with the distance. Sometimes it helped, tonight it wouldn't.

Exhausted, he sank to his feet, hand lingering indecisive on the doorknob.

"Hey."

"Kurt?" Blaine looked up stunned.

"I – uh cooked." Impeccably dressed, Kurt made his way across the room in small tentative steps. "I figured you'd be too tired to make Sam a welcome home dinner so I did it for you." He gave a halfhearted flourish. "It's full on vegan on account of your – boyfriend being a picky eater." He stopped, hovering over Blaine. "Where is Sam?"

"He went home to his folks"

"Oh!" Folding his legs, Kurt sat down beside him. "I'm sorry."

"Me too!" Silence yawned, devouring the empty spaces. "You're talking to me again?"

After much throat clearing and several non-starters, Kurt said. "I have been a terrible friend."

"The worst." Blaine muttered debating whether to let him off the hook. It was hard to just brush off months of being snubbed by his closest friend. "Why did you do all this? Really?"

"Peace offering."

He could feel Kurt's glance burning the side of his face. He was too tired to manage to care.

"I thought you would wait for me. You didn't. I guess I wanted to punish you for forgetting about us. It was selfish and cruel and I'm sorry." Kurt confessed to the room. "I know you are stressed out with the play not being so well received. I have known for a while that you were – struggling. I know you need someone to talk to. Sam can't be here right now and Tina is still stuck in her love bubble."

Bloody happy couples!

"This whole star-crossed lovers thing can't be easy on either of you. You need your friends. Me. I should have been here sooner and I'm sorry."

Blaine gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm sorry too."

"How is he?"

"Disillusioned. Sad. Lost." Blaine released a shaky breath. "I hadn't realized how much I count on him to be Sam, bright and happy and good. I feel like if he is not himself then I can't be me." He blinked back the threat of tears. "I know he's trying to find himself. I know how much that means to him. I'm trying to be understanding and supportive. But God it sucks! It sucks that he's so far away with these people who don't get him. And I just want to shake him and tell him to come home because I can make him happy and I can keep him safe. Why won't he let me?"

"I understand him. I've been where he is." Kurt looked at him with a wealth of knowledge. "You don't see how you are, how easy it is to get lost in you and never feel completely worthy."

"I am not perfect."

"I know that now. Now that my Adam colored lenses are on."

Kurt examined Blaine's quizzical expression then sighed. "Let me explain it a different way. You and I have always known exactly what we want to do with our lives. The stage defines us. It is who we are. I can't imagine how hard it must be for Sam to be trying to figure it all out now and date you - Mr. Overachiever - at the same time. He feels inadequate and he wants nothing more than for you to be proud of him, think of him as an equal. Give him a chance to grow into the man he wants to be. Be there when he's ready."

Blaine chewed the inside of his cheek, ruminating on his words. "It's not easy."

"Nothing easy is worth having."

Closing his eyes, Blaine sighed, his head making repetitive soft thuds on the door. He was ashamed to find his faith in Sam wavering. What if Sam never found his footing? What if he never attained the dreams he was chasing? What would that mean for them?

Clothes rustled beside him and he blinked eying the outstretched palm. "Get up." Kurt ordered. "I didn't spend an hour sweating over a hot stove to create the perfect Chard, Sweet potato and Peanut stew for it to go uneaten."

"That sounds disgusting." Blaine got to his feet slowly.

"Chop chop." The drill sergeant called. "I have to catch you up on months of romance. I have the best boyfriend. Guess what Adam did…"


	5. Year Four: Silk

Blaine stepped off the train dragging his overfilled matching luggage. Huffing past anxious fellow travelers he dropped his bags onto the platform taking a much-needed breath. It was a little much for a three-day stay at the boutique hotel but he wanted to be prepared for anything. One of the wheels snagged halting his momentum and he was wrestling with it when his name was yelled down the station. Popping up, he surveyed the modest crowd unwilling to believe his ears.

"Sam?" His jaw dropped when he saw Sam running towards him. "How?" Dazed, Blaine hugged him back. "I thought you couldn't make it."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"If I'd known you were here, I would have been here sooner."

"SOONER?" Another voice yelled behind him.

Blaine spun round facing the narrow eyed spitfire. "Tay Tay!" He greeted arms outstretched.

"Don't try to con me with the smile Blaine! You're late!" Tina shrieked. "Two days late."

"Tina, I am so sorry. Rehearsals run long. The new director is such a hard ass. He'd give Sue Sylvester a run for her money." He explained. "I left as soon as I could."

"Really? Cause apparently you could have been here sooner?" Tina tilted glaring over his shoulder at Sam. "Shouldn't you be filling that list I gave you?"

"Yes um uh" Sam's hand dropped from his back as he read from a piece of pink paper. "Track down Wish Lanterns." He grinned rolling his eyes at Blaine. "I am all over that."

"I saw that." Tina snapped. "Get moving." Picking up Blaine's hand luggage she rushed him outside.

"Sweetie, I know you have this epic love going on considering how often you've broken down crying to me about it…"

"I wasn't crying." He glanced over checking to make sure Sam was gone. "Every time."

"I'm sure they were very manly tears." She appeased. "But I need you. I'm getting married on Saturday and I'm freaking out. I keep having these horrible dreams that I butcher my mom with a cake knife and I always wake up surprised that I didn't enjoy it more considering she has hijacked the whole thing and is driving me crazy."

She took a deep breath flagged down a cab then continued her tirade. ""You're the Man of Honor. My mom is already giving me hell for having a male Maid of Honor until I told her my original plan was to marry you, a friend of Elton, that shut her right up but be warned she will be giving you some dirty looks, my aunts too."

"Because I'm gay?

"Because you're not really Asian." She paused letting the cab driver take his bag. "When you and Sam get married you can saddle me up and treat me like a pack mule but until then your collectively cute tushies are mine to do with as I please."

"I get it. I'm your bitch until you say 'I do' but quick question?" He gave her puppy eyes. "How is Sam? Really?"

"Ah!" She groaned dropping into the back seat. "God, you have a one track mind. He's fine, Blaine. I give you daily reports…

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ok weekly reports. What do you want from me? I have been busy planning my wedding. Besides I set up a kickass network of ex McKinley-nites that send you emails every time they see or hear from him. I even got you a sleeper agent in the Evans household."

"The Twihard?"

"Hey. You're lucky Stacey's still crushing hard on sparkly vampires. She thinks your spying on Sam is romantic instead of creepy."

"It's not creepy. I need to know how he's doing so I can be there before he crashes and burns again. And the video Jacob Ben Israel sent me was the definition of creepy. It was shot entirely from bushes and behind parked cars. It was like watching a crazy stalkers how to guide." Blaine complained. He would never admit to anyone that it was the last thing he watched every night before he went to sleep.

"I agreed to let him add it to his reel for his finals."

"There's a college for paparazzi?" He scoffed.

"Point is," She shushed him. "Sam is doing great. His dad getting him to do volunteer work was inspired. He has blossomed into a beautiful flower blah blah blah. He's happy." The cab pulled up outside the hotel. "So we are going to go inside and have brunch with my family and you are going to use that famous Anderson charm to keep me from killing my snide cousin Amy."

"I should go up and freshen up."

"No, we are late." She directed his bags to the bellhop and dragged him through the lobby. "I put you and Sam in the same room. You're welcome."

Before he had time to process that piece of information she shoved him into the open-air restaurant and he found himself hip deep in Cohen Changs.

xxXxx

Much later, Blaine buried his face in the soft hand towels; the stubborn Mimosa buzz he'd acquired over brunch still clung to his senses. Toweling off he dropped it exiting the coral bathroom. He smiled on finding Sam sitting on the window seat across their room, his elbows braced on his knees.

"You're back." Blaine exclaimed walking towards him, hoping for a proper hello.

"What's going on with your voice?" Sam leaned back, light streaking through the windowpane behind him throwing his face into shadow. "I was with Puck and he says you've been having some issues."

Without warning, his arm shot out hand tangling in Blaine's shirt dragging him between his legs. Tilting his head back, he looked him dead in the eye. "You would tell me if something was wrong right? If you are sick…"

At the quaver in his voice, Blaine rushed to reassure him. "It's just been a little hoarse after performances." His hands slid to Sam's shoulders kneading the tense muscles, soothing the worry away. "I will see a doctor."

"Not an ENT." Sam shook him. "You need a Laryngologist."

Blaine's hands drifted upward cupping Sam's jaw, fingertips dancing over his perfect lips, chasing up his cheekbones. His long lashes fluttered eyes clashing with his. Worry lurking in the darkest corners. Pushing closer, hands tangling in Sam's dark hair he said, "Yes, dear."

The quip had the desired effect tearing a loud laugh out of him, darkness fleeing before the light. He looked perfect like this. Grin wide. Relaxed. Happy. Sam. Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Blaine touched their foreheads. One thought ricocheting through him. Mine. He swayed forward desperate for more, more touching, more skin. Only the singular thought nagging at the edges that they had a deal holding him back.

Pulling back he forced a smile then turned away. What they were trying to have with bigger than sex, he wouldn't jeopardize that. Surveying the room, he skipped over the plush inviting bed, looking for something else to keep them busy till dinner. He riffled through the closet for a change of clothing. They could go out for a movie. "How are things going at the Centre?" He asked pretending like he hadn't received a full run down from his many spies. "Sam?"

He peered over finding Sam's eyes glued to his ass. Sucking in a sharp breath, he turned back perusing the half filled closet, trying to think of anything else other than the fact that they were stuck in a room together for 3 days and 3 nights.

He swore under his breath. "This is stupid."

"Huh?"

"Obviously I want you - a fact that is ridiculously difficult to hide in these pants." He gestured at his bulge, blush burning up his neck. "In my defense I didn't expect Tina to get thoughtful and stick us in the same room. So…uh…we are going to catch a movie or take a walk to burn off this excess energy…" Or you can break open the minibar and – shut up tiny brain! God, he was losing his mind.

Uncharacteristically enigmatic, Sam cleared his throat then said. "Or we could stay here."

"What?" You are hearing things. "Yeah. There might be something on TV." He searched for the remote.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"C'mere."

He would have been embarrassed by the way he flew across the room. But then there were lips, harsh bruising lips and impatient hands dragging him into Sam's lap. Grinding down, he whimpered in delight at the thick ridge throbbing under his ass. Calloused hands slid under his shirt scraping up his back tearing ragged moans out of him.

"Are my hands too rough?"

"S'perfect." Blaine arched, head falling back exposing his neck for the eager mouth. A sharp nip to his collarbone sent tingles down his spine, heat pooling in his groin. He fought to clear his foggy mind. "Should we talk about this?"

"Later." Then Sam's hands tightened on his hips. "Top or bottom?"

"God!"' His eyes squeezed shut. There would be enough time later to argue about switching. Right now he wanted to be filled, taken, claimed. "Bottom."

He held on as Sam swung him into the air taking them the necessary three steps to the bed.

"Wait!" He stalled halting Sam's descent. "What if it's a disaster?" Nothing could ruin a relationship faster than bad sex. They could be over before they'd even begun.

Draping over him, Sam nuzzled his neck whispering. "Then we'll try again and again and again." Wet sucking kisses chased each word, trailing down his chest, hands flipping buttons, lingering over his heart. Blaine shivered, as his clothes were ripped off in feverish desperation until he lay naked, gentle breeze from the open windows wafting over his heated skin. Cock leaking onto his belly.

His breath caught as Sam just looked at him, his curious eyes missing nothing. It was an odd silence one he wanted to fill with lots of words because those were his best friends hands and mouth on him. But then Sam's hands followed his eyes tracing grooves and contours reverent in their exploration. Time slowed. Fantasy merged with reality. Sam's abs rippled under Blaine's hand, the other twisting into his open fly, swallowing his gasps, feeling him thick and long in his hand.

Blaine fumbled for the table lamp, phone and notepad crashing to the floor. The sun was setting leaving the room too dark. He had to see. For all the other times when Sam wouldn't be around, he had to remember. He exhaled with delight as the flicked switch partially flooded the room with light meeting Sam's amused gaze.

"I want to see you." He explained needlessly. Sam was lost his eager tongue dipping into his navel. Gripping his shoulders Blaine struggled to keep his eyes open as the searching tongue dipped. When it found his seeping head he tossed his head back, spreading his legs thrusting his groin. More. Biting down hard on his bottom lip as he sunk into the wet heat. He couldn't get enough choked sobs spilling out of him. Perfect pink lips suckling at his head, and then swallowing him down until he was buried deep in Sam's throat.

Eyes slipped shut. They were so going to talk about where Sam learned to do that. Another flick of the talented tongue scattered his thoughts. He was going to come. Tangling his hand in his hair he pulled him off. Not like this.

Sam hovered over him, eyes dark with desire, lips swollen, eyebrow cocked. Poetry flew out the window.

"Fuck me."

Sam exhaled hard. There was a rush of activity that barely registered but somehow there were condoms and lube and Sam's hand on his hip. He held his breath as Sam's tip kissed his rim.

Blaine bucked his hips in response taking his lips; opening his heart and his body feeling the exquisite burn as Sam pushed past resistance sliding in deep, taking hold. They rocked together, exchanging long drugged kisses, learning each other until the pressure burned below the surface.

Needy fingers clutched his thighs. "You good?"

"Sammy" He ordered breathless. "Move." At the first hard thrust he wailed, dug his fingers into his back and hang on. Muscles squeezed and rippled around the relentless piston. The relentless stretch and the violent pegging of his prostate dragged him inexorably to the edge. He gasped for breath, slick skin rubbing against his, nerve endings tingling as he swore and begged for more. Rough pumps of his cock pushed him over. Sam's name escaping him in a guttural moan as he spewed his load coating them with his seed. He was crushed as Sam found his release collapsing on top of him, before he rolled them over, still inside of him.

"Oh wow!" Sam murmured, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. "I mean…Wow!"

Chuckling into the crook of his neck, Blaine breathed him in. He would echo the wow if he could move. As it was he was boneless and comfortable and so very happy. "I love you Sam."

Startled Sam paused, he could feel his heart hammering above him then he replied, "I love you too." The smile obvious in his tone, his arms holding him close.

It was enough.

Freshly showered, Blaine leaned against the headboard as they gorged on room service and Sam talked about his volunteer work at the shelter his church run.

"The kids are amazing." He waved his fork around. "They ask a thousand questions about things I know nothing about so sometimes I just make stuff up."

It wasn't what he said as much as the way he looked when he said it. His eyes sparkled with hope and his smile was genuine, the change in him palpable. For the first time in almost three years he was just Sam. "You really love it."

"Yeah well," He flushed rubbing his neck. "They are kids. They don't care about what I look like or who I am. Their whole lives have changed in an instant. I know what's its like to suddenly find yourself homeless with parents that are struggling everyday to put food in your mouth and a roof back over your head. They need someone to care and listen and distract them when they are scared." He shrugged. "It pays nothing but it's worth it." He paused then segued. "Besides I make enough to get by from bartending at Four Turkeys."

"What were you going to say?"

"It doesn't matter. I can't do it anyway." He busied himself dumping their plates on the floor.

What couldn't he do? "Just tell me."

"Fine. The church is building an orphanage in Nicaragua and they need volunteers."

"Did they ask you to go?"

"Yes but I can't."

"Why not? You've obviously have found your calling."

"It's so far away." He excused. " And every time I have left home everything has gone to hell. This job matters. You know. No one has ever trusted me with something this important. What if I fuck it up?"

"Do you want to go?"

"Yeah but what about us?"

"Sam. I want you to be happy. This job, helping people really makes you happy. Do not use me as an excuse to run from it." With those words, Blaine left him to mull it over. The decision to stay or go was ultimately Sam's; he was willing to support him either way.

xxXxx

Blaine pushed through the crowd making his way to the far end of the reception. He stopped for the occasional hello before making a beeline for Sam. He had been watching him all night, all day really, barely able to follow Tina and Mike's vows and all the hoopla that came after it.

Sam looked good in a tux he thought as memories of the Sadie Hawkins dance assailed him. Except tonight they were here together.

Coming to a stop next to him, Blaine tilted his head back taking in the fall of fabric covered in congratulatory squiggles. "Oh my god Sam, what is that?"

"It's my wedding present for Mike and Tina. I thought they could like turn it into a canopy for their bed or something. I got all the guests to sign it and there's still room for all the guys who couldn't make it like her grandparents, Mr Schu, Unique, Kurt, Finn…" He came up beside Blaine handing him a black fabric marker. "I left some room for you." He pointed to a bright empty spot next to his name.

"Sam, this is genius."

"Yeah?"

"Of course but uh won't some of these names above their head be like a uh…"

"Boner killer!"

Blaine snorted at his bluntness. "Yeah. Who wants to look up mid shag and see their parents words of wisdom that include a bible verse." He raised his hand signing next to Sam's name then stepped back. "Maybe curtains would be better."

As another guest elbowed him aside, Blaine turned surveying the dance floor that was jam packed with their friends wondering who would get married next. Maybe Kurt. He had gone to England to meet Adam's family.

Like he knew what he was thinking, Sam pressed up against his back whispering, "One down."

"Who will be next?"

Sam wrapped his arms around his waist. "My money's on those two." He pointed out a frantically whispering couple at the edge of the tent and they watched as Puck tossed his arms up and stormed out, after a beat Rachel chasing after him.

"Puck and Rachel? Really?" Blaine supposed in a very obscure way they were perfect for each other but to outsiders, on paper, they made no sense. Much like him and Sam.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked kissing his nape before resting his chin on his shoulder. "You were totally crying earlier. Is it because I decided to go?"

He had gotten a little emotional during the ceremony not just from Sam leaving again but it was a lot of change rushing at them at once. He couldn't help wanting the world to just stop for a second so he could enjoy this. With a small sigh, Blaine tilted his head back, meeting his lips. Arms tightened around his middle, Sam deepening the kiss with an edge of desperation.

"It's a lot to ask." Sam said tearing away.

"No it's not." Blaine spun round in his arms cupping his face. "I love you Sammy. I'm still going to love you no matter what. You're worth waiting for."

Eager hands slid up his back tangling in his barely tamed curls as he was dragged into a fierce kiss. "I love you too," Sam promised between kisses. "I was thinking I could come and stay with you for awhile before I leave."

"Yes." Blaine exploded peppering Sam's jaw with kisses. He wondered if it was possible to say anything other than yes to his man.

"I hope your building allows dogs."

"Why?" Blaine leaned into him drunk on Sam.

"Dalton?"

"You're leaving him with me?"

"Blaine," Sam looked vaguely disappointed. "We have shared custody."

"Uh yes, they allow dogs. The bitch in 4B has a ridiculously adorable Yorkie that she totes around in a giant purse."

"Do not put Dalton in a purse."

"I won't. God! How gay do you think I am?" Blaine laughed pretending not to consider the idea. Dalton was too large for a purse but how awesome would they look in matching bowties? They could go running in the park in the morning and watch trashy reality TV shows late at night. It was everything he never knew he wanted.

"Blaine" Sam warned.

"Oh look we are up." He pointed at Tina who was frantically signaling them for her specially requested duet. She finally got her timing right. "You ready to blow them away?"

"Lead the way, superstar."


	6. Year Five: Wood

Blaine hopped, wincing with every thwack of his foot on the hard wood floor as he tugged his shoe on. This was the least graceful exit he'd ever made. Picking up his other shoe, he froze as a big hand stroked down the curve of his spine lingering on the small of his back. "You're awake." He said trying to keep a smile on his face."

"And you're sneaking out." The tall blond man kissed him, brushing the curve of his ass. "It's okay I know you have to rehearse real early today. I can get you some coffee to go."

Blaine blew out a breath relieved that he'd somehow managed to establish an alibi the night before. "I can't be late."

"Okay." The older man paused on his way to the kitchen, disappointment etched on his brow. "When will I see you again?"

"I – See the thing is, Tho –" Blaine stopped his mind blanking on his name. He knew it was something starting with a T. Maybe. "Tommy?" He took a shot.

"Gavin." The slim man straightened, confusion replacing the flirty smile.

"That's what I said." Blaine tried to cover his mistake. Even as he was doing it he wondered why he bothered. He would never see Gavin again. "The thing is I'm really busy with work so I don have a lot of time to date."

"Right. Well I don't want to keep you from work." The irritated man pushed him aside and opened the door. "You should go." He waved him out just as Kurt came sauntering up the paved walkway.

In light of his imminent rescue Blaine decided to be gracious, dragging his ingrained good manners to the forefront. "I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me."

"Spare me the cliché breakup speech. Okay?" Gavin snarled, nostrils flaring. "I got it. You were into me last night. Now you're not. For the record you didn't have to pretend to care about me. You're hot and I'm a sucker for pretty boys. I would have slept with you anyway."

Blaine stumbled back as the heavy door was slammed in his face. He slipped off the porch, hissing at the sharp jab under his right foot realizing he'd left one of his shoes inside. Shit!

Wow!" Kurt murmured behind him. "You are just winning friends and influencing people all over the place, aren't you?"

Checking his pockets for his wallet and phone, Blaine relaxed on finding both. "I don't need a lecture." He snapped.

"You need a minder and pretty soon if the alcoholic fumes coming off you are to be believed, you are going to need a sponsor."

Ignoring him, Blaine squinted headed for the idling cab. Sweat poured off his body, his scotch infused body struggling to adjust to the cocky brilliance of a new day. He raised his hand to shield his face, the glare of early morning sunlight burning clear through to his brain, his tummy roiling with every step.

"It's 8 o'clock in the morning and you're drunk. Again." Kurt cried chasing after him. "What are you doing?"

His voice was like a dagger stabbing into his brain. "What I do is none of your business, Kurt. We are just friends. Hopefully the kind that have outgrown judging eachother."

"You made it my business." Kurt trailed him, his footsteps on the gravel too loud. "When you call me frantic from the home of your latest mistake because you have no idea where you are and all I have to go on is the address you read off his mail because you can't ask him, you make it my business. When I'm forced to lie to our friends about where you've been the last few weeks, you make it my business. Sugar had her baby by the way, not that you care."

"You're right." Blaine tossed over his shoulder. "I don't care."

It was ridiculous to think of Sugar Motta as a suitable mom. She'd probably lose interest in the kid in a couple of years and go back to partying. The last time they met was at a club opening in Queens. She looked gorgeous, her enormous nine-month belly stressing the seams of the clingy low cut amethyst dress she wore. He'd been high out of his mind and trying not to show it. Their entire conversation was a blur; he kept glancing over his shoulder afraid his date would get back with their drinks, so ashamed that she would see him with someone else and ask questions. Questions he also desperately needed the answer to. Like why he was alone with his boyfriend half way around the world.

Brushing off the looming depression, Blaine reached for the car door handle the cool metal sliding over his clammy fingertips. He was about to pop it when Kurt spoke.

"I talked to Sam."

Fuck! Blaine felt his hands slide off the door, a million tiny pebbles rolling under his bare foot as he turned his breath tearing in and out of his lungs, harsh in the muggy air. "What did you do?" He demanded.

"I was furious at him you know." Kurt folded his arms across his chest, the defensive pose revealing his unease. "I couldn't understand how he could leave you alone to deal with the laryngoscopy and surgery while he's running around saving orphans or whatever in fucking Costa Rica."

"Nicaragua"

"I don't care where…" Kurt huffed. "I thought he left you to deal with this on your own. Imagine my surprise when I found out he knew nothing about your surgery or that you got replaced as lead in Two Cities."

Blaine cleared his throat twice, the mention of the surgery triggering the automatic response. "Did you tell him?" It was a complex question, weighed down by guilt and months of elaborate deception.

"Tell him what? That you're drowning in whiskey and self-pity? That you have been lying to him for months?"

"Did you?" Blaine impatiently toed the ground, watching the incongruous sparkles off his painted toenails flashing in the sunlight as he waited for the axe to fall.

"I couldn't. He's so happy and proud of you. Literally every third word he says is your name. It's nauseating." Kurt unbent, playing with his scarf. "Why doesn't he know that you are spiraling? Why didn't you tell him?"

There were so many reasons why.

Sam was thriving. He had finally hit his stride with volunteer work and the after school music programs he run for the local kids. Blaine couldn't burden him with his own failings. They'd never felt so disconnected.

It didn't help that Sam was based in one of the rural towns where the cellphone network and Internet connection was spotty. They talked as much as they could but it was never enough. As foolish as he felt for thinking it, a secret part of him felt like Sam didn't need him anymore. It piled onto the inadequacy from getting fired. Who was he if he couldn't sing? Sam expected him to become great. There were supposed to be Tonys in his future. Would he love him anymore if he was an ordinary guy?

His scruffy jaw rasped between his palms and he ached for a distraction. This is why he drank and partied so he wouldn't have to think about the future and Sam. "Maybe I'm sick of being so easy to leave."

Kurt's horrified gasp was audible. "That's it. I'm calling him."

"Don't." Blaine closed his hand over Kurt's phone. "I'm just being stupid." It was impossible to catch Sam at this time of the day anyway. "We should go before Gavin gets a shotgun and forces us off his lawn."

"We are in Connecticut not the deep south."

They piled into the cab, Kurt reminding him that the hefty bill was on him. Resting his head against the warm pane he closed his eyes, trying not to think, remember, wallow. But his mind stole back to that perfect week Sam had spent with him. There'd been music, and laughter and so much love his heart ached from the loss of it.

"I was wondering how long it would be until the whole long distant thing got to you."

Opening his eyes, to a tiny slit he focused on Kurt's fuzzy outline. "You don't know what it's like to have every plan you ever had go up in flames."

"Sam hasn't left you."

"Hasn't he?" There was a giant hole in his soul that begged to differ.

"Blaine, you're sad and you're lonely. Sam left then you lost your voice almost immediately after. You are self-destructing and it's partly my fault for enabling this behavior. It has been almost four months since your surgery. You need to start dealing with it because I'm done covering for you."

Scooting down Blaine let his words wash over him.

"The vocal cord paralysis wasn't permanent. In under a year you'll be back on top. If Adele can do it then so can you. And you are getting Dalton back from Jake; he's been using him to pick up chicks in the park. You two used to be so cute with the matching outfits and you treating him like a person instead of a dog."

Blaine smiled faintly. He did miss his dog, their dog. When everything had fallen apart it had been too hard to deal with him.

"No more daddy types and no more clubbing. Okay? Cause if you screw up one more time I'm telling Sam. He might be the only one left who can make you listen."

With that threat, Kurt stopped talking leaving Blaine to nod off to the sweetest dreams of his Sam.

He jerked awake outside his building, paying the cabbie and falling in step beside Kurt as they headed to his apartment. Exhaustion lingered at the edges, he could remember for sure when he'd last been home or what day of the week it was. Kurt was right; he'd gone too far, immersing himself in the night in order to escape his demons. The nameless, faceless men had provided an escape that he'd craved. None of them knew there was a 'Sam and Blaine'; they never looked at him like he was half a person or peered over his shoulder expecting his other half like his family and friends did. Sometime their support was almost too much to bear. It was a constant reminder that he was alone.

Pushing into the open door, he sighed. Home. Funny he expected it to be a bigger mess. He had no memory of cleaning up.

"Hey man."

He looked up to find Artie wheeling over to him. "Hi" He wondered how he had gotten into the building, past the stairs again but it felt too impolite to ask. Right now he needed to lie down and sleep for a week. Out of the corner of his eye he could see them frantically signaling behind his back.

"What?" He growled exasperated.

"I need your help with a movie I'm working on" Artie said. "I'm in over my head."

"I don't need your pity." Blaine turned to Kurt. "Did you put him to this?"

"It's not pity. I won this award…"

"I know about the award." Everybody knew, Artie had won a prestigious independent film award that came with a $10,000 grant for his next project. "I mean congratulations. I meant to call you earlier."

"It's okay you've been – preoccupied. But I promise this is not pity. I have to deal with all these frustrating industry folk who keep shooting down my ideas…" Artie shoved his thick glasses back up his nose. "You're charismatic and diplomatic. People listen when you speak. I need you."

Blaine nodded in the face of his desperation but he was still unwilling to commit to this new path. "How about I get back to you tomorrow around 10am with my decision?" His body rebelled; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been out of bed before noon. "Make that more like 2ish."

"Yeah" Artie mocked. "I will let you get back to your very busy schedule of lying around and doing nothing."

"Ouch! Fine, let me get a shower and we can go over the script."

Halfway to his bedroom, Artie called his name. He paused turning back. "You know Sam loves you. Right?"

"I don't want to talk about Sam. I mean…I just." There it was, compassion reflected through enormous lenses derailing him a little. "We're fine."


	7. Year Six: Iron

"Artie" Blaine sighed exasperated. He couldn't believe they were having this argument for the millionth time. "They are props. We need them to look authentic not be authentic."

"I'll have you know that you are compromising my vision."

"We are not spending $800 that we do not have on antique silver candlesticks."

"They were Alana's grandmother's candlesticks, smuggled out of the old country. When she catches her reflection in them she's reminded of how far she's strayed from the person she used to be. It is an integral part of the plot. If that scene doesn't work then the whole movie doesn't work."

"I'm not spending more than 50 bucks on them." Blaine snapped back. "Try EBay."

"EBay?" Artie choked. "Why don't you just slit my wrists right now and spare me the humiliation from all the mockery of every yahoo and film critic between here and L.A?"

Oh the drama! Blaine clasped his head in his hands rubbing at the throbbing temples. "Make it work."

"I don't know why you are making such a big deal out of it. You brought us in under budget last time."

"And you fought me every step of the way." Blaine remembered all the late nights they spent screaming at each other trying to find some middle ground between artistic expression and financial restraint. It had been slow trying to find a way to work together since they both had such strong opinions but the finished product had been worth every murderous impulse that involved a wheelchair and a bus he'd ever had. They made a pretty good team. Most times.

"I fought you because I felt oppressed, dictated to." Artie yelled sticking his fist in the air. "Down with the power."

"I need a drink." Blaine muttered. When their production meetings devolved into slogans and name calling, it was time to take a break.

Artie dropped his fist turning back into his amiable self. "That's a great idea."

"Harry? Julian?" Blaine turned to the two shell-shocked men in the corner. Even after three weeks of working with them, the interns they'd hired from New York Film Academy still overreacted to their fights. Harry especially. His already large eyes got comical while he cowered, looking like someone should call Social Services. "Beer?" They nodded in unison.

Blaine exhaled stretching as he stood at the open refrigerator. Pushing up the over long sleeves of the blue hoodie, he dug deep fishing out three Coors Light. Only three. Artie, the only Budweiser consumer was going to have something to say about this.

Enjoying the cool air, Blaine smiled preparing for round two. The fights he had with Artie were frustrating but exhilarating. It still amazed him that he felt this passionately about a project that was supposed to distract him from losing his voice but he'd gotten so caught up in the film making process that when Artie suggested they form a production company and make more movies; he'd jumped at the chance.

"We're out of Bud." He yelled turning round as the kitchen door swung inward.

"I don't mind."

Gasping sharply, Blaine stepped back, one bottle slipping from his slack hand exploding at his feet. "Sam" He exclaimed, swaying forward then pressing back the counter top digging into his back.

Sam stepped forward, his hand on Blaine's abdomen halting his momentum. "Careful"

"What?" Blaine asked stupidly, his brain turning to mush at the branding touch then he glanced down. Oh yeah! Feet. Glass.

He jerked his head upward. Boyfriend. "How…I mean uh…hi! Are you still growing? You seem taller."

Sam's smile was instant, warmth spreading to his sparkling green eyes. Dark cropped hair covered his scalp, a light growth of beard covering his face. Broad shoulders dominated and tan skin invited. He looked like a man, Blaine thought, a proper man, weather-beaten, windblown, a man who had lived and seen things. Christ! He was making him sound like those pirates on a cover of a romance novel, this must be what happens when you are celibate for a year…Wait, did that make him the swooning maiden in that scenario because that wasn't okay?

"This is mine." Sam slipped his hands around his waist tugging at the navy blue hoodie he wore. "It looks good on you."

Blaine flushed. The hoodie was Sam's. He'd snuck it out of his suitcase before he left for Nicaragua and he wore it around the house even after Sam's scent had faded and all that was left were memories, memories that barely held up against the years of staggering loneliness that followed. There were words he had to say, words he had promised himself he'd say next time Sam stood in front of him. Tongue-tied, he started and stopped several times, grasping Sam's forearms as he suddenly lifted him until he sat on the granite countertop lean body pressing between his spread thighs. Okay, swoon.

His eyes slipped closed as Sam stole a kiss, the brief brush of lips pushing reason aside. Blaine moaned, hands digging into Sam's shoulders as he arched into him, losing himself in the hot raw kiss that followed. Locking his ankles behind his back, he frantically rocked against him whimpering as big hands cupped his ass, hungry mouth nipping at his neck.

"Honey," Sam gasped tearing away, hot hand on his nape. "Your hair is really hard."

Startled, Blaine tossed his head back laughing; surprised he could think at all through the choking arousal. Before he could explain that after the previous year he'd had, taming his hair with gel had become the only part of his life that he could control, Sam ripped the hoodie off his body his t-shirt joining it on the floor. His murmur of appreciation made all the nights Blaine had spent at the gym punching a bag, working off sexual frustration or murderous impulses worthwhile. Speaking of murder…

"Artie?" He asked.

"They left." Sam held him close for a deep plundering kiss. "I have missed you so fucking much."

Blaine hummed, pausing to clear his head. If they stayed here, he'd soon find himself full of condiments. "Bed" He instructed tightening his arms around Sam's waist when he picked him up, placing him clear from the broken glass. He didn't want to get used to being toted around. He was a man dammit but boy did it feel good.

He stumbled back dragging Sam with him, losing his jeans, and locating his bedroom by touch. Blaine's breath caught as Sam crawled onto the bed too, bracing on his arms hovering over him. Every simple move made him shudder. The long strong body was ridiculous, teasing tan lines riding low on his belly revealing pale unblemished skin that made his mouth water. Pushing Sam onto his back, Blaine clambered over him exploring his chest with his lips and tongue. A raised ridge on Sam's abdomen stopped his descent and Blaine sat up hoping for a clearer view. He blanched finding a jagged wicked looking scar snaking down his torso, curling around his ribs.

"What happened?"

Sam sat up giving him an easy smile. "Honey…"

"Less calling me honey, more explaining."

"I was in Managua for a couple of days picking up a shipment. Run into a street gang. There was a kid maybe ten-years-old outside my hotel, looked like he'd taken a pretty bad beating. I thought I could help him. When I tried to talk to him, he run and I chased after him took a wrong turn into this barri…" Sam stopped mid word. "You don't look so good."

"That's because I feel sick." Tearing his gaze from the horrible reminder, Blaine pulled on his boxers – this wasn't a naked conversation - then leaned against the headboard taking deep calculated breaths. "You could have died. You could have died and I would be here, completely ignorant."

"I didn't."

"You could have."

"Blaine," Sam settled next to him kissing his forehead. "I'm okay."

Until the next time. "Why didn't you tell me you were in the hospital?"

"I didn't want you to worry. That's the same reason why you didn't tell me, right?"

Stunned, Blaine met his earnest gaze. "How did you find out?"

"Artie let it slip in one of his 'Blaine is a tyrant' emails a few months ago. You know he calls you Napoleon?"

"If I left all the decisions up to him, we'd be bankrupt." Blaine protested.

"So are you like some big time producer now?"

Blaine let himself be distracted, trying to replace his version of normal over the horrific images of knives and blood, Sam's blood. "Hardly. The first very short movie we made 'Ode to a Small-town Somebody' was a critical success even if it made like - negative dollars. But because it was so well received it was easier for me to find an investor to back our new project."

"So you're done with Broadway?"

"No." Blaine searched his eyes wondering if that's Sam really wanted for him. "You know the theater has always been my first love. I'm just taking a break for awhile."

"Cool. I got you something." Sam scrambled off the bed, dashing out the room. "Close your eyes."

"I am not five and this is not Christmas morning."

"Close them." Sam yelled.

Reluctantly, Blaine closed his eyes still straining to listen. For all he knew he'd open his eyes to find Sam gone and that all this was a cruel, cruel dream. Breathing shallowly, he waited until the dip on the bed in front of him restarted his heart. A large object placed in his lap.

"Open"

"Holy fuck!" Blaine exclaimed, running his hands over the pitch black, polished double neck guitar, his eyes following the stylized 'S' and 'B' that formed the body. "This is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

Blaine's head popped up so hard his neck hurt. "You made this?"

"Yeah" Sam placed his hands over his, drawing them over the intricately carved wood. "It's like us. This side is a little rough around the edges just like me…" Blaine could feel the pattern, bumpy curves weaving into the wood. "And this other side is smooth, refined like you. We may be different but we make beautiful music together." Sam plucked the strings sending vibrations up Blaine's arms.

"Oh, I think you are the smooth one." Blaine focused on their hands even as his vision blurred, he cam to a scary realization. He just knew when Sam left again he was going to come apart. No matter how hard he had worked to get his emotions, his entire life back under control, it was going to shatter. He had to be ready. Biting on his lip he asked, "How soon are you leaving?"

"I'm not."

"What?"

Sam's hands tightened on his. "Don't get too excited but I got a job at a Non profit Child Advocacy Center in Harlem. At some point I'm going to need to think of college, which is even more terrifying at my age. Uh! I also got an apartment. A friend hooked me up with this guy – don't worry I had him fully vetted – he's not a serial killer but he's a shut-in. Dude hasn't left his house since his wife was killed eight years ago which works for me. I will be his link to the outside world; in return my rent is way cheap." Sam swallowed, peering at him. "You could get a little more excited."

"You're staying?" Blaine had heard all of that, but still. What? "In New York?"

"Yes"

"Oh my god! I mean oh my…"

"Use your words." Sam joked.

Infuriated, Blaine's fist shot out connecting with Sam's shoulder. He groaned as this - despite Sam's emphatic 'Ow!' - resulted in more pain than he inflicted. Placing the guitar carefully to the side he shoved Sam onto his back, straddling him. "Why didn't you tell me you were looking for a job here?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up incase it didn't work out."

Sam was staying! Boneless, Blaine slid down, lengthwise, his head on Sam's hard chest. The thump of his heart under his ear was real, his warm skin rubbing against his permanent. What did this mean? Tilting his head back he left Sam to decide, "What happens now?"

Sam simply smiled, fingers stroking his lower back. "Go out with me?"

"Like on a date?"

"Yeah"

"After everything we've been through you want to date?"

"I know we are doing everything backwards and upside down but I want to date you. I want to worry about what to say and how soon I can remove your silly little bowtie. I haven't been on a first date in…" He squinted his eyes in concentration. "Three years. So you're in for a treat."

"What happened your rigid timeline?"

Sam's hands cupped his face, thumbs touching his brows, lips. "I thought we could cheat time a little. Make sure we work."

"A test-drive?"

"Yes" Sam's hand swept down his body. "Honey, you're shaking."

"I just can't believe you're here. That any of this is happening."

"I promised you, I'd figure it out."

Blaine could hear it in Sam's voice, how proud he was that he'd made it to New York on his own even if it had been hard. How could he do anything but say yes. He wiggled on his body, kissing the curve of his fuzzy jaw.

"Is that a yes?" Sam asked

"Yes and I want lobster or I'm not putting out.." Blaine shrieked with laughter as Sam flipped him onto his back calling him high maintenance while covering his face with kisses.


	8. Year Seven: Wool

"Hmm tickles!" Burrowing under the thick pillow, Blaine hid from the flare of the early morning light. Pleasant exhaustion pulled at his body dragging him further down. He wasn't sure what Sam was doing but the light touches felt good, too good as his previously limp cock struggled back to life for the third time.

'Honey," Sam chuckled the light gusts of his breath ghosting over the small of his back. "You need stamina."

"We've been up for hours." Blaine moaned. "I need sleep." He shivered, arching his back instinctively as Sam began to tongue up his spine, drawing wetly on his skin in slow lazy circles.

"Are you sick of me already?" Sam asked.

Blaine roused enough to utter an emphatic, "Never." Closing his eyes as the pillow was ripped off his head and tossed to the floor. He loved the feel of Sam's body heavy on his, his fingers curling, the hot mouth sucking and nibbling behind his ear. Christ! Hot impatient fingers played in his sweat-dampened curls, unerringly finding the sensitive spot at the back of his neck. He would never get used to how easily and how often Sam touched him.

It stopped his breath the first time Sam touched him that way in public, his thumb stroking just behind his ear giving him a knowing grin. The slow slide of his fingers into his hair was constant. It wasn't always overtly sexual; sometimes it felt like Sam didn't even know he was doing it. Either way the last jar of gel Blaine bought sat collecting dust on his shelves.

It had been really tough between them the first couple of weeks. Foolishly he'd expected that with Sam in New York their relationship would just magically work out. Obviously he needed a stronger wand or a more attentive fairy godmother because between Sam's long work hours and his erratic ones there was never enough time in the day.

It hadn't just been their schedules that were out of sync; their entire dynamic was off. Six years apart had molded them into two separate entities. Sam was a workaholic, fiercely independent, and used to answering only to himself. He forgot their third date and fell asleep during the fourth.

To be fair, Blaine shouldn't have dragged him to the midnight screening of Psycho knowing he'd just pulled a double shift but after years of third, fifth and seventh wheeling with Puck and Rachel, Kurt and his date and now Jake and his new girlfriend, he'd been so excited to go with Sam - it had been going well until the snoring. Not even the endless teasing Blaine got from the group stirred him.

"Dude, I know you're excited that he's back." Puck started. "But you should your let your boy sleep every once in awhile."

"He's tired from work." Blaine explained attempting to shake Sam awake.

"Right 'work'." He emphasized starting another round of laughter until the other patrons shushed them.

Blaine shook his head at the sight Sam made, head tossed back, trumpeting away. His efforts to make every single moment count were useless if Sam wasn't awake to appreciate them. Waking him, he decided to stop trying to chase down romance and be a half way decent friend to his best friend. He didn't have to impress him; being with him was more than enough. So he took Sam home and put him to bed and sent out a mass text threatening all their friends with extreme bodily harm if they came anywhere near his apartment for the next two days. They all blew up his inbox with various, inventive, and downright dirty suggestions but they stayed away.

A weekend of Marvel and videogames was exactly what they needed and somewhere between the third truly awful Ghost Rider and the second Captain America, Sam kissed him murmuring a heartfelt thank you against his lips. Every day after that had been better than the last and after four months of rediscovery he found he didn't just love the new Sam, he also really liked him and the long slow kisses he gave that made him dizzy and his hands. His knowing hands that were now stroking up Blaine's back, setting fire to his skin.

"You feel so good." Sam murmured in his ear, nipping his shoulder, knees pressing between his thighs. Blaine started to shake. It felt so damn good.

Their sex life had been the one part of their relationship that had had him worried but the second they were alone they couldn't keep their hands off each other. They made love and other times they just fucked. Emerging breathless and giddy from a club bathroom, a situation made somehow less sordid because he was finally with the right man.

Sure they'd been together that way before but they never discussed their past lovers. Obviously Sam had been with other guys before him, his comfort and ease with the male form right from the beginning was unmistakable. This became both a blessing and a curse for Blaine. Ridiculously he had wanted to be his first but realistically he should be sending whoever taught Sam so well flowers. Surely there was a 'Thank you for the orgasms' bouquet created for situations like these.

Sam surged to his knees regaining his attention by giving him a light slap on the butt. "Pay attention."

"That's hot."

They both jerked apart turning to the open doorway to find Brittany S. Pearce still in her fire dancer costume that was more glitter than fabric watching them. God! How long had she been standing there?

"Britt!" Blaine yelled as Sam dragged the covers over both of them. "We talked about boundaries."

"You said I could come into your bedroom if I really needed something." She tilted the bright blue bowl in her hand, milk sloshing dangerously to the edge. "You're out of cereal."

"There's cereal in the cabinet above the stove."

"It doesn't have marshmallows I checked." Blaine groaned at the thought of the mess she must have made, tearing through four boxes of cereal like she had the last time.

Sam squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Brittany could you wait in the kitchen? I will come help you find your cereal." As she left he turned to Blaine, "I thought you got back all your keys."

"I tried." Blaine sighed. "Can we not have this discussion while your ex is tracking glitter all over my apartment?"

Sam kissed him quick and rolled off the bed yanking on his pants. "When is Santana coming back?"

"Sunday. I think. Britt wouldn't be working so hard if she was around."

"Have you been to see her show at the casino?"

"Yeah, it is incredible. The stage rotates round the room and they have lots of cool pyrotechnics. I would never have put Brittany and fire together but the entire act will take your breath away. She wasn't named in the top 50 must see live acts in New York for nothing." Blaine replied. "Do you want to see it?"

"Only if you're cool with it."

"I am." Why wouldn't he be? "But Sam?" He called waiting until the other man turned round. "Wear a shirt."

Sam gave him a shameless grin catching the t-shirt Blaine tossed at him covering his torso before he left.

Blaine dragged himself out of bed and had a quick shower. He was starving. The sight of Sam and Britt's heads touching as they whispered, he smiled remembering how much that used to bother him.

"Tsk! Tsk! Look who finally crawled out of bed." Kurt emerged from the behind them.

"Morning Kurt." Blaine turned, cutting the snarky remarks short. He knew it wasn't a personal attack. It was just Kurt being Kurt. "When did you get here?"

When Sam had first moved back he'd worried about how they would get along. He near killed himself running interference in every conversation they had, afraid to leave them alone together especially since Sam embraced his do-gooder side and Kurt fully immersed himself in fashion and the cultural scene, Blaine was the one thing they had left in common.

He would have continued to run himself ragged until Sam pulled him aside one day and said, "Stop it. Kurt and I both care about you we will find a way to get along. Now stop hovering, you're making things weird."

Pouting hard, Blaine finally left them alone even though he never went far. Just in case.

"About ten minutes ago. I thought we were going to Midtown to get some Very Berry Brioche French toast instead of regular French toast." Kurt poked at Sam's plate to make his point. "No very. No berry. Certainly no brioche."

Blaine reached past Kurt for a cup. "The basic combo of eggs, milk and bread is the same so eat up."

"But I thought we were celebrating?"

"Your fashion launch thing? I thought that wasn't for a few months." Sam sounded puzzled. He turned to Blaine, the custodian of their social engagements. "I didn't miss it, did I?"

"No. Blaine got the lead in Warhol, it's going to be the next big thing on Broadway." Ignoring all his desperate signals, Kurt plunged in over sharing. "It's an Andrew Lloyd Webber production, the music alone will be phenomenal. It could be bigger than Phantom."

"Nothing's bigger than Phantom." Brittany chimed in.

"Rent boys all over the city have been gobbling down cock in dressing rooms and alleys for a chance to audition for that part. You got it." Kurt tossed his arms in the air, voice high and shrill. "Why aren't you screaming from the rooftops?"

Even over that ruckus he heard Sam's quieter, "You started auditioning?"

Kurt's shriek reduced to a heavy laden, "Oh!" He glanced between them then picked up the nearby newspaper, pretending to skim through it.

Blaine dodged Sam's hurt stare. "Can we talk about this after I get back? Dalton needs his walk." It was completely made up and he knew Sam knew but he didn't want their first fight to be in front of his ex and Sam's ex… And the whirlwind that was Rachel that just burst through the front door with a truly massive bouquet of cookies just as he escaped sans dog.

xxXxx

Tilting his head back, Blaine contemplated the bright sky, sun through the wisteria. A light breeze ruffled through his curls as he rested, enjoying the solitude in the arbor of the rooftop garden of his building.

Many a night had been spent up here, ranting and raving, indulging in lots of 'angsty' venting and endless arguments with himself, God, the universe but they were nothing compared to the fights he had over the years with an absentee Sam. Lost in memory, he looked back startled as the squeak of hinges disturbed his tranquility.

"I knew you'd be up here." Sam said as he wandered over, plucking a pointy familiar leaf off one of the plants. "One of your neighbors is growing more than heirloom tomatoes."

"That's Mr. Keegan's. I think he's going for a Cocoon meets Weeds meets Breaking Bad kind of lifestyle." Blaine couldn't help but smile at the thought of the pot-growing septuagenarian. "When I'm 70, I plan on getting high all the time too."

"I didn't know you smoked."

"A lot happened while you were gone, Sam."

"Well" Sam leaned on the red brick wall in front of him. "I plan on being there when you're 70. You might need some help – you know - steering your walker, wouldn't want you to fall and break a hip. How would I explain it to the grandkids?"

"Tell them grandpa was a rebel."

"Nothing says rebel like polka dot bowties."

"I can be classy and a rebel, the two aren't mutually exclusive."

"Too classy to be 'gobbling down cock in a dressing room'?" Sam demonstrated with his hands, ugly quotation marks slamming into place.

Stunned by the verbal attack amidst their banter, Blaine pushed to his feet, sending the bench rocking. "I did not do that."

"Hey" Sam interrupted. "Of course you didn't. I know you. You wouldn't do that to yourself or to me. I just – I don't understand why didn't you tell me you were auditioning. Kurt and Rachel blasted my ears off after you left. I know I don't follow the Broadway rags as much as you guys, okay – at all - but it sounds like the role of a lifetime and you hid it from me."

"I don't want it."

"Blaine, you beat out hundreds of people to get that part." Sam insisted. 'I don't understand."

For a long moment Blaine was silent, trying to stack his words in a way that made sense out loud not just in his head. "You know the first time I got the role of Joseph in Two Cities, I was over the moon. Everything was in my grasp, getting up on stage every night to an adoring public, the screaming, the applause, the adulation was exactly how I dreamed my life would be. Then one day I couldn't hit a high note and my career was over that fast." He snapped his fingers. "One day I was on top of the world the next, I was forgotten. I lost more than just a job that day, I lost myself."

"You didn't tell me any of that?"

"I couldn't tell you because you have such big dreams for us and I felt like I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain."

Sam looked confused. "I never…"

"I know you didn't push me into anything Sammy, but you need to hear this as much as I need to say it." Blaine waited for his reluctant nod. "The moment that part came up, I had to have it. I wanted to prove that I could get it, that they didn't break me completely the first time round and I could get back on top if I wanted to. A huge part of me also wanted it for you, for the us you think we should be."

Sam's eyes were a mess. The way he was looking at Blaine made the conversation almost impossible to continue. He had to power through if they were to be different. Their lives had to be settled once and for all, not just for Sam but also for the both of them.

"I hated you sometimes you know." Blaine stared off into the distance then continued. "Having you gone all the time was absolute hell for me. Your constant absence tested me at every turn, my faith in you… in myself. I spent six years in limbo, unable to connect emotionally with anyone else, feeling such debilitating guilt when I did because I got so used to being yours, being what you needed when you needed. Sometimes, I got to thinking that maybe I should have turned you down all those years ago."

Sam crossed his arms, shoulders drooping giving him a less than convincing non committal, "Oh!"

"I know why you had to go. Looking at you now, how you've changed, I'm blown away by your compassion, your dedication to your work… Sam, I can't do what you do."

"If you're trying to break up with me, I think you're giving me the wrong idea."

"Break up?" Blaine scoffed verging on hysterical. "I haven't made it this far to give up now. I'm trying to tell you that I don't need another three years to know that you are exactly what I want. I don't need three minutes. After the past couple of years, I can say with absolute certainty that I will never love anyone as much as I love you. But I need you to understand that our time…our life, Sammy, is right now and I don't want you to miss it because you're chasing some dream life sprouted by an eighteen-year-old kid. Look around. Our dreams have changed."

Striding forward, Blaine raised his hand to Sam's strong jaw. "To me, you, we are perfect exactly the way that we are. I should have told you that seven years ago but I was just as much a dumb kid as you were but believe me when I tell you right now, we are already amazing. Trust me like I trusted you and let go."

"And I'm you want, a sometimes penniless almost social worker?"

Blaine laced their hands together squeezing his warm palm. "That snores. Don't forget the snoring."

"Hey," Sam protested laughing. "You can't cook for shit, you've almost killed me like three times already."

"Fine. This amateur filmmaker will very graciously let you do all the cooking while he buys earplugs." Blaine wouldn't really use them. Sometimes Sam jerked awake in the middle of the night disoriented and mumbling in Spanish, he had to get up to soothe him even if Sam never remembered any of it in the morning.

"You are absolutely sure you won't regret this? The musical I mean."

"My drive to succeed hasn't disappeared I'm just redirecting it a little. The way I figure it, I can work for Andrew Lloyd Webber now or I can work my ass off and be him in a couple of years…without all the divorces."

"I love you too even though saying it doesn't feel like enough after your speech." Sam trailed off pursing his lips. "But from now on you can have all the fancy French toast that you want."

"Nah! Yours is just as good and we should set up some sort of budget, college is expensive."

"Blaine" He groused. "It's for my degree. I can figure it out."

"We." Blaine persisted. "From now on Sammy, we are in this together. If you want to move to Sydney or Darfur then we talk about it. If it's that important to you, I'm coming with you. Okay?"

Sam put his hand over his, voice threatening to crack as he spoke. "Tyrant." He teased, lifting his head closing the narrow space between them, kissing him gently.

Minutes later they stumbled back into the apartment, Sam's hands kneading his ass through the pockets of his jeans. Lips fused in soft whimpers and whines, Blaine was pressing closer whimpering as Sam lifted him a couple feet of the floor. Damn near dropping him as the door swung open again.

"Great, you guys are home." Ryder brushed past them rushing inside. "I don't want to intrude given your - uh doing that – but I really need some advice."

Blaine followed him finding him pacing, "What about?"

"Jake."

Of course it was.

Sam came up behind him wrapping an arm around his waist, his lips brushing his nape as Ryder shoved up his sleeves and started to explain.

"Every time I start to date someone new, he shows up at my place saying he's sorry, he's changed and wants me back. I drop everything for him because I'm an idiot. Then inevitably he has a colossal freak-out because we ran into one of his coworkers at the store or whatever and decides he is straight again and I have to spend the next couple of months watching him with all these girls." He jerked, fists clenching. "I know the coming out process is different for everyone but I can't keep doing this; I mean you guys were apart for years and look at you now. I want what you have."

As Sam's arm tightened on him. Blaine realized that they'd been too good at concealing the problems they'd had over the past couple of years. Only Kurt and Tina and Artie had really known how badly things had gotten between them. They had been far from perfect, it's only right now that their relationship was anything to envy. "We were not perfect."

"And it wasn't easy." Sam spoke up.

Ryder didn't look like he believed a word of it as he collapsed to the couch. "I got an offer for a job in Boston. Should I go and forget about him?"


	9. Year Eight: Bronze

"Every time I enter this death trap, my life flashes before my eyes."

Blaine chuckled as the elevator squeaked and groaned around them, sparing no thought for Artie's complaints. He loved that terrifying sound, loved everything about this old building, from its decidedly odd occupants to the complex aromas of Lebanese cooking that assaulted him on the third floor. Sniffing happily he relaxed, the lingering stresses from the intense negotiations with the studio sharks falling off his shoulders. He was almost home, their home.

"Your face is doing that thing again." Artie smirked.

"The happy smiling thing?"

"Yes."

"Just…" He flipped towards his friend, incredulous. "I am living with my boyfriend and IFC Films just offered to distribute our movie…I can't believe I'm old enough to do this, any of it. If I wake up tomorrow and I'm facing a row of Dalton blazers I'm going to be pissed."

"Relax, man. High school is well and truly over." Artie shoved the tiny glowy button repeatedly. Blaine could have told him it wouldn't make the lumbering behemoth move any faster. Loch Mesh would get them to the next floor when she felt like it, not a second before. "Are we going to take the deal?"

"There's a lot to consider… And we would be giving up a lot of control. I spotted a lot of legal loopholes that lean in their favor. I mean they could put the movie on ice or they could recast and reshoot. Imagine Alana as a large breasted bimbo." Blaine shuddered. "Let's talk about it after Chris goes over the contract."

"Cool. But if it ever comes up I'm all for bimbos."

Yeah! Like Artie would ever let anyone 'desecrate' his movie? Grinning, Blaine clutched at the battered railing as Loch Mesh lurched to a respectable speed and deposited them at the top floor, the pulsating top floor. Light from the setting sun struggled through the grimy panes illuminating the empty hallway. Their neighbors Matt and Riley were paramedics so hopefully they were out on shift, or with Sam. A more likely scenario since they'd bonded over the horrors of their respective jobs.

Blaine couldn't say for sure how he and Sam decided to move in together. The intricate details of that negotiation - who asked who, when or why would forever be lost in one of their many sex comas - but it had taken the better part of a year for them to find a place they both agreed on and they frustrated many a broker with their varied conditions.

Blaine didn't want to leave Manhattan and his ridiculously overpriced apartment on the Upper West Side.

Sam insisted they split the bills and he didn't want to pay a fortune to live in a shoebox.

Blaine was working at home so they needed a lot more room.

They had a dog.

It had to be wheel chair accessible.

It was by sheer chance that they stumbled onto the converted warehouse in an up and coming neighborhood in Queens. Like most unexpected happenings the news reached them from a friend of a friend who'd discovered its availability by eavesdropping on the subway.

Blaine had rushed over, taking a baffled still stammering Harry with him. Despite the deceptive beat up partial graffiti exterior, the top floor apartment opened up into a massive open space and the small adjacent terrace with a breathtaking view was a cherry on top of the already perfect sundae even with unsafe railings.

It had been love at first sight.

He went a little nuts decorating the vast space. Sam tugging along reluctantly to all the antique and furniture stores, grumbling the entire time about becoming a stereotype but he still showed up for their excursions each and every time. Two months in, with all the décor and repairs complete, it felt more like home than any other place Blaine had ever lived.

Pushing Artie ahead of him, Blaine edged through the front door searching the softly lit room. Most of their friends had already shown up, Joe sat cross-legged on an island of plump floor cushions – one of many covering the revived hardwood floors - his girlfriend Melissa, gazing at him with adoration as he fiddled with the bongo drums in his lap. Jake stretched out on the deep red sectional couch above them, tapping his phone. Making it more obvious how easily he was ignoring the pretty dark haired girl at his feet.

Rachel waved gaily at him as she and Finn set up the karaoke machine in the corner that had been designated as stage for the night. Her boyfriend wasn't hard to find. Puck choosing that moment to assail their eardrums again by pounding out System of a Down's 'F—k the System' on the Baby Grand piano.

"Hey you guys." A blond vision in red popped in front of them.

"Quinn!" They both yelled exchanging hugs. She looked incredible for someone who'd disappeared for four years with Brody – oh god please let her not have brought him along. Blaine glanced about surreptitiously; a naked man molesting his furniture wouldn't be that hard to find.

"What are you doing here?" Artie ventured.

"I heard everybody was coming." She rolled her eyes at the absurdity of that statement. "Since I was passing through…" No mention of where she was from or where she was heading or how she'd gone up a cup size. More importantly if she was still hooking up with a pompous ass. "…I thought I'd stop by and say congratulations? Mazel tov? Or something?"

After the Ryder fiasco Blaine had decided honesty while completely embarrassing was totally necessary. He smiled. "Well… 'Yay! You waited for Sam for years and it finally paid off when he came home just in time to save you from a life of substance abuse and indiscriminate whoring' is a bit of a mouthful."

Quinn choked on her beer, spilling on Artie whose gaze barely moved from her unnaturally enhanced cleavage as she snickered behind the red solo cup. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

She gave him a small knowing smile. That hadn't changed. "Sam's a lucky guy and he's in the kitchen. Go." She shooed. Then she turned to Artie "You are all mine." He slobbered a yes still glued to her bosom.

A dumber man than Blaine might have asked what was wrong with her original breasts but he knew how quickly Quinn could morph from girl next door to a dead eyed Medusa if you crossed her.

Looking up, his heart did that stupid skipping thing.

Sam.

Sam juggling vodka bottles behind the counter.

His pulse picked up, flooding with worry. Especially when one bottle missed his hands and he fumbled, catching it just in time. Giving Blaine a triumphant grin, he took a bow. That man was going to be the death of him.

Shaking his head, Blaine took a detour right past the piano.

"Duuude." Puck bellowed as Blaine dropped the lid almost catching his fingers. "I need these," He pantomimed typing. "To write."

"This is a Steinway, not a laptop " Blaine caressed the glossy cover. "Show some respect."

"After putting my back out, helping you steal it from your parents house. I should be allowed to use it all the time."

"I had permission to take it." Blaine interjected before heading towards the open kitchen area.

Sam's hands had just slid up his back when Puck popped up besides them. "What?" Blaine snapped. Interrupting cuddle time was a hanging offence.

"Okay. I know since you guys moved into this place you have a new closed-door policy, on account of all the walking in on you having sex. Which was traumatic by the way…for me." He raised a brow at them. " But how about you give me a key – only me - and we call it even on the larceny front?"

Blaine leaned in and hissed. "For the last time it's not stolen. And no! No more keys for anyone." This was their home, their sanctuary not some bachelor pad.

"Where am I supposed to go when Rachel kicks me out again? I had to crash in my truck last time."

"Off the top of my head, try not to get kicked out." Sam suggested.

Blaine had no doubt Rachel and Puck under one roof made for a challenging living situation but after five years together it made no sense for them to be struggling now.

"Man, just because you're all cool with the whole guy on guy thing and Blaine is super chill, doesn't mean you don't remember how fucking moody chicks can be."

"Uh thank you!" Blaine muttered.

"She seems fine now." Sam pointed out as they heard Rachel belt out the tail end of Carly Simon's 'You're so vain'."

"Until she gets me alone. I can't do anything right without her having some sort of bitch fit.

"I bet you think that song is about you." Blaine deadpanned and Sam burst out laughing while Puck scowled.

"Not funny, man. She almost decapitated me last night because I brought her the wrong ice cream." He huffed. "Strawberry lemonade punch sherbet, those are the words my nightmares are made of."

"Dude, what did you get?" Sam passed him a beer.

Blaine smiled at his boyfriend's relish.

Puck took a swig. Stalling. Finally. "Everybody loves vanilla."

Their laughter was cruel and all the sweeter because of it. Rachel snaked her arms around Puck's waist just before he could retaliate.

"Babe, come help me." She coaxed sweetly. "I need to find the perfect duet for us."

Puck threw them a thoroughly perplexed look as Rachel dragged him away.

"Alone at last." Sam murmured in his ear.

Humming Blaine leaned into him. His eyes dropped to the trace of Sam's tongue over his bottom lip. Blaine sighing as their lips met, Sam's hand creeping back up his throat. McKinley/Dalton flashbacks aside, they weren't kids anymore. Thank god. He could kiss him instead of dreaming about it.

"There's never a hose around when you need one." Kurt slammed his sketchbook onto the counter hopping onto a high backed stool. "On the other hand, I may be just in time to catch the public show that will occur in 5 minutes. I mean given the extensive tonsil search you two are currently involved in."

"Bad day?" Sam asked.

"Not the worst but it certainly felt like the longest."

"Well" He checked the fridge passing him a bottle of white wine. "I hope this helps." Then he wandered off mouthing, "Fix him" at Blaine. Sam didn't get far as a newly arrived Sugar stopped to ask about his job. Immediately he whipped out his phone, showing her the video of him and Trevor doing impressions. The four-year-old towhead had been at the Center less than a week and already he and Sam had bonded. He talked constantly about his mini me.

Shamelessly eavesdropping, Kurt said. "If you tell me that the two of you are adopting a kid after I ended yet another relationship, I will kill myself."

"Nah. His mom OD'ed at some crack house, the police is still looking for his dad. Any family would do really but in the meantime, he belongs with social services." Blaine peeled the protective covering off the wine. "What happened with Jack?"

"Don't pretend to care. You never liked him."

"Kurt. I just think dating three vapid self-involved male models in a row is you trying to overcompensate." Huffing Blaine ripped the cork out of the bottle.

"Contrary to popular belief I'm not depressed because you and Sam are living together."

"Me and Sam? I was talking about Adam," Topping off the large wine glass, Blaine passed him the Pinot Grigio. "No one thinks you're depressed over us."

"Everybody…" Kurt bit out. "Everybody thinks that. While you've been the circling wagons and making like bunnies, it's been raining 'Poor Kurt's' over here."

"Oh God Kurt, I'm so sorry." Blaine oozed embarrassed sincerity. "I've kinda disappeared, haven't I?"

Honestly he couldn't remember for sure when he'd last spent any time with Kurt. He bailed on their plans to go shopping after Sam's professor called in sick giving them an extra three hours together, three hours of touching …and some chafing. He smirked; those hours were emblazoned on his brain in high def. But he'd meant to call Kurt after that but day had blended into day, work got crazy after they closed casting and started shooting. The rigors of filming for long hours took its toll and he frequently trudged across the city to fall asleep exhausted in Sam's bed. Even when they did show up for Ryder's farewell party and Marley's 'Nice girls don't finish last' promotion dinner, they were that cliché couple. The one with the PDA and the inside jokes, the couple that disappeared to the bathroom forgot to return.

"I get it you are busy and in love of course nothing else matters."

"Come on Kurt, we aren't just friends, we are family." Blaine studied his dejected profile. "You are always welcome here and I promise I will spend more time with you…just the two of us…doing anything you want."

Kurt perked up. "Well, I recently got into the Opera." He sing songed the last part, clutching his chest. "So you and me La Traviata next Friday?"

Sam hated the Opera anyway so... "I wouldn't miss it."

The aimless thrumming of a guitar and murmur of the crowd drew his attention to the makeshift stage. Sam had traded his phone for a microphone.

He cleared his throat. "Blaine and I – he's back there – would like to welcome you to our home." Sam paused as the hooting and hollering swelled. "Thank you! Thank you very much." His Elvis impression complete with the hip swivel made everyone laugh. Including Blaine who had enough trouble taking his eyes off him on a daily basis.

Sam was very distracting. When he talked. When he laughed. When he did nothing at all.

"We are going to party McKinley High Glee Club style which for us means a mini concert." Sam beamed as applause erupted again. "Most of you were happy to bring your instruments. So we got a piano, a couple of acoustic and electric guitars, a drum set, karaoke machine, a uh tambourine – thank you Sugar! – and bongo drums from Joe. Dude, we are looking forward to your McConaughey impression but save it till later when we are all wasted."

Joe laughed along though Blaine was pretty sure he didn't get the reference.

"There's a row of screens around the room." Sam pointed them out. "Connecting us to Britt and Santana who are in Ohio for her Abuela's birthday" Brittany waved enthusiastically, Santana gracing them with an eye roll. "Then we've got Marley, Tina and Mike in Chicago." Lots of thrown kisses. "And finally Mercedes, Sunshine and Unique on a tour bus on their way to Atlanta. Uh -" He hesitated as he came to the final blank screen. "Our Boston connection appears to be down."

They were the only ones that noticed Jake's face crumple for a second.

"Well I will be happy to get this party started." Sweeping up one of the guitars he gave Blaine a sly wink then began to play.

"You don't need to change a thing about you babe

I'm telling you

From where I sit, you're one of a kind

Relationships, I don't know why, they never work you and they make you cry

But the guy that says goodbye to you is out of his mind."

After Sam's song, Quinn and Kitty entertained with Keri Hilson's Pretty Girl Rock. There was spastic dancing (Finn) and lots of laughter. The fun sorta screeched to a halt when Dave Karofsky stumbled in after 10, looking appropriately uncomfortable especially when Puck loudly insisted that he was there to see Kurt. He hemmed and hawed but didn't actually deny it. Kurt's blush spoke volumes.

The copious amounts of alcohol loosened everyone up again.

Blaine caressed the ivory keys when his turn to sing came up. If wrestling the mic out of a depressed Jake's hand before he did "Slow dancing in a burning room' for the third time was a turn. He knew exactly what song he wanted to do and he unerringly found Sam in the room. It was after all for him and he gave it his all lyrics pouring out of him, his Baby Grand giving up the sweetest sounds.

I should ink my skin with your name

And take my passport out again

And just replace it

See I could do without a tan

On my left hand,

Where my fourth finger meets my knuckle

And I should run you a hot bath

And fill it up with bubbles

'Cause maybe you're loveable

And maybe you're my snowflake

And your eyes turn from green to gray

In the winter I'll hold you in a cold place

And you should never cut your hair

'Cause I love the way you flick it off your shoulder

And you will never know

Just how beautiful you are to me

But maybe I'm just in love

When you wake me up

The entire room had gone quiet but all Blaine's cared about was he could feel Sam's eyes locked on him like they had been in the high school auditorium so many years ago.

And I think you hate the smell of smoke

You always try to get me to stop

But you drink as much as me

And I get drunk a lot

So I'll take you to the beach

And walk along the sand

And I'll make you a heart pendant

With a pebble held in my hand

And I'll carve it like a necklace

So the heart falls where your chest is

And now a piece of me is a piece of the beach

And it falls just where it needs to be

And rests peacefully

So you just need to breathe

To feel my heart against yours now, against yours now

'Cause maybe I'm just in love when you wake me up

Or maybe I'm just in love when you wake me up

Maybe I fell in love when you woke me up.

There was much drunken cheering when Sam dragged him off the tiny stool by the tie and planted one on him. They disappeared to the bathroom for a while emerging rumpled and satisfied finding the party had kicked into high gear in their absence; most of their neighbors had showed bringing food and more drinks.

About an hour later … in estimated drunk time … Rachel and Puck had a huge fight that ended in a confession - she was pregnant it explained her Jekyll/Hyde routine. Puck was over the moon.

Ah idiots in love.

Blaine stumbled past Jake's unknown date doing body shots with Matt and one of their neighbors of indeterminate gender. "Ma'amoul" He pronounced as he chowed down on the pastries dropped off by the Lebanese couple. They hadn't stayed but it had been such a nice gesture.

He was stuffing them into the fridge when a hard body wrapped around him from behind. "We are really happy right?" Sam slurred. "All these couples are a mess…like we were but we are no longer a mess right?"

Blaine turned wrapping his arms around his neck. "We are great." He reassured.

"Did you see Finn's face? It was so sad." Sam stage whispered. "We should build him a new Rachel."

"Baby, she's not a Delorean. Finn is just going to have to find another girl."

"Sooo sad!" Sam repeated. "We are –" He gave Blaine a tequila laced kiss. "Happy! Very happy! Not like Finn. So I was thinking since we don't have any real problems…"

Seeing right through him, Blaine interrupted. "No TV in the bedroom."

"C'mon."

"No." Blaine was enjoying the fact that a television debate was the biggest fight they were currently having. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jake heading to the terrace so he countered quickly. "And as a reward, if you let this go… I will wear my Cheerio uniform and let you peel it off me…whenever you want." He was pretty sure Sam went cross-eyed over at his suggestion.

"There's no way you can tell that's what I want."

"Sammy," Blaine bit and licked right under his jaw, pushing him in the right direction. "You've dated four cheerleaders. At some point it is just about the uniform."

"Not with you. I love you."

"I know baby, I love you too." He kissed him. Hard. "I'm going to talk Jake for a bit. K? I'll be right back."

"Tell him to go home…home to Ryder…home." Then he disappeared Quinn yanked him away.

Slipping through the sliding door, he inhaled. Jake sat on the top rail, his heels banging out a dull staccato on the exposed brick. The red glow from the lit cigarette illuminated his face as he took a deep puff, forcing the smoke back out his nostrils in a practiced move.

"You're not going to jump right?" Blaine edged closer drawn by the acrid stench of tobacco.

His broken laugh was simply devastating. "Not today." He nudged the pack of Camels in Blaine's direction.

Giving it a longing look, Blaine shook his head. It wasn't worth it. Besides the lack of hallucinogenic effects, which would be the initial draw, smoking would magnify his inevitable hangover symptoms.

"Sam's idea?"

And Sam hated when he smoked so he was trying to cut back. "Yeah."

Jake's laugh this time was more teasing less painful to hear. "You are so whipped."

Blaine clambered up next to him and they fell into a comfortable silence. The cool night air breezed through his curls tickling the back of his neck sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. The fuzzy edges of his mind started to clear. He smiled faintly watching the drunken antics of the remaining guests.

Kitty and Melissa were playing Jenga with the empty beer cans or they were trying. The pile of cans kept crashing to the floor its noise drowned out by Finn's deafening rendition of Usher's Confessions. He occasionally paused forgetting the lyrics as he stared at Rachel like the world's saddest giraffe. The future Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman were too wrapped up in each other to notice. They lay on the couch exchanging soft kisses, Puck's hand caressing her belly.

"Everyone's moving on."

Blaine searched Jake's face in the moonlight. "Growing and changing is part of life. If you don't move on then you are just…"

"Standing still?" Jake sniffed, rubbing his hands together. "Like me?"

"Jake, what are you still doing here?" Blaine didn't know if it was the alcohol giving him the courage but someone had to ask. Since only him and Sam knew why Ryder left, it was up to one of them – okay him – Sam was sliding across the floors in boxers, dark glasses and from the straining buttons, one of Blaine's shirts. "You are obviously miserable."

Jake didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I can't believe he left me."

"Why don't you go after him?"

"And say what? You have no idea the games I have played, the stuff I've said and done to get with him. He'll never trust me again."

"Do you love him?" Blaine asked.

"More than anything."

"But you're terrified of being thought of as gay."

"What?" Jake frowned. "How could you think that? Sure maybe at first it was scary but I adapted pretty fast."

"Then what is it?"

"My mom – uh" He shook his head taking another puff. "She loved my dad so much that it's like something inside her broke when he left. She puts on a brave face but no other guy has been able to get anywhere with her. I don't want to end up like her. All sad because of some guy."

"This is because you are afraid of love?"

"Don't put it like that, it makes me sound stupid."

God, this boy needed a truckload of therapists working round the clock to fix him. "Go talk to him. Make him listen."

"He won't…"

Blaine persisted, pushing past his doubt. "Tell him you'll stay with him, no matter what. It's all he really wants to hear. And then – here's the kicker - actually stay with him until he believes you."

A rapping at the glass doors distracted him and he spotted a disheveled giggling Kurt waving and mimicking goodbyes. Karofsky looming besides him. Oh hell! Being the voice of reason was messing with his drunk.

"Go home to Ryder." He told Jake. Then reentered the muggy apartment pulling Kurt aside.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving." He whispered.

"With him?"

Kurt blushed, a silly smile gracing his lips. "Yes"

"No. You are too wasted to be deciding this right now. If I let you leave with him and you regret it in the morning you'll never forgive me."

Kurt's face dropped, and he chewed on his bottom lip then nodded. "K"

"You can hook up with him tomorrow. In the mean time - dance."

The party wound down slowly, guests drifting out in groups and some pairs. They remaining McKinley-nites dropped pretty much where they stood. Curling up in piles on the floor pillows. Blaine locked up and dimmed the lights, crashing on a pile of cushions. Right then Sam crawled in next to him, wrapping his long legs around his.

"Kurt's in our bed." He mumbled.

"I couldn't let him leave."

"S'okay you are here." He garbled. 'This was awesome. We should do it every year."

Blaine smiled at his lagging excitement. "I love you Sammy." He whispered brushing the hair off his face.

"Love you more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Blaine did is 'Wake Me Up' by Ed Sheeran. It is simply amaaazing!


	10. Year Nine: Pottery

Blaine rearranged the cutlery for the third time, moving the place settings even closer together. Stepping back he eyed the intimately arranged dinner for two. The candles were all set and ready to be lit; champagne was chilling in the bucket. Takeout packets were disposed of. "Perfect." He looked over at Dalton for approval but the large dog gave him a judging look before padding off. Tossing his arms up, he yelled. "I was only gone a month."

It hadn't been that long. Sure the elaborate dinner was a bribe so Sam wouldn't be mad at him. And it looked like while he'd been gone the amount of ruffled feathers and fur he'd have to soothe had tripled. This wasn't an over exaggeration; there was an actual bird in a stylized black metal cage hanging on the terrace. At least he thought it was a bird, most of its pale feathers had fled its body leaving disturbing patches of skin.

Shuddering, Blaine turned to the tiny orange fur-ball on the windowsill. "You still love me, don't you Murdock?"

Jumping from the daring height, Murdock skirted him delicately, chasing after Dalton. As always Blaine stared, marveling at the way the half blind kitten managed to maneuver around the furniture without incident. Well that just left the two hamsters, both of whom were just happy to get fed and the turtle with the yellow lightning bolt painted on its shell. He wasn't sure what wrong with the turtle but there had to be something.

Sam hadn't started painting again or collecting strays until after the incident.

It seemed callous and dismissive to think of it that way. A nine year old slitting her wrists in a bathroom stall after a visit from her dad should never be so easily set aside. It hadn't been easy, not for Blaine. The specifics of that night – the frantic phone call from Riley, red and blue flashing lights, blood on Sam's jeans - danced at the edges of his mind pushing in at odd moments but he buried his head in his work effectively keeping them at bay.

It certainly hadn't been easy for Sam. He blamed himself. All Blaine's rationalizations about how he hadn't even been at the Centre but way across town enduring his Social Statistics final hadn't dented his belief. It wasn't Sam's fault that the college volunteers he'd left in charge for an afternoon had been more interested in hooking up in the backroom than upholding Ava Hoult's strict no family policy. Even though there was no possible way he could have foreseen the tragic turn of events, Sam had been inconsolable, scarily so, leaving Blaine helpless and terrified in the face of his grief. Through the hospital wait, police investigation and the funeral, with the distressingly tiny coffin, Blaine held his hand. But no matter how tightly he held on, he could still feel him slipping away.

Somehow time went by. The Aberdeen House provided extensive counseling for the remaining children and staff. After a few sessions Sam brought home a half starved kitten that he'd rescued and it wasn't till it kept bumping into the front door that they realized it was half blind, a fact that pleased Sam even more. He named it Matt Murdock because Daredevil seemed too unkind and a week later he adopted Peanuts and Pickles, the pair of hamsters that had been liberated from a Serum company. Starting a pattern of pet rescue that given the turtle and bird, continued long after Blaine had left.

It was the day Sam started to paint that stuck out the most in Blaine's mind. Barefoot, in his jeans, music blaring from earphones, night after night, he'd crawl out of bed and paint. Ava alive. Ava dying. Ava dead. Over and over and over, the dead girl covered canvas after canvas until Blaine thought he'd explode.

Sam was obviously very talented; his art leapt off the page, stark and visceral but Blaine had never missed macaroni portraits more or felt so alone. There was no easy fix for sorrow. Nothing Blaine could do or say that would make a difference, everyday started and ended the same, with him slowly losing the love of his life. He scoured the Internet – websites and chatrooms - for information on secondary trauma desperate for a solution to their problem. He met a ton of people who were just like him; spouses and partners of caregivers in similar situations but all the advice they offered mostly involved giving Sam time to deal with the aftermath. This was too passive to suit him. Time was a fickle bitch; she was never to be trusted.

Somewhere in Blaine's mad scrabble for answers, Sam healed. With the help of therapy at work, a grief support group after work and painting when he couldn't sleep he came out stronger on the other side. Blaine was the one left gasping and struggling in the wake of the tragedy that had split them right down the middle. His boyfriend stood on one end with his new friends and acquaintances that were all in the business of saving lives. Blaine was on the other end with everybody else leading their self-involved little lives. It felt like Sam didn't need him anymore, not as much as he used to anyway and it was only a matter of time until he realized it too and they broke up. So in an irrational effort to delay the inevitable Blaine stayed out later and worked longer, creeping home in the wee hours leaving at the crack of dawn until they became the couple that communicated in Post-its on the fridge. When the Toronto International Film Festival came up he fled dragging Artie across the border with a million excuses, they had to meet other industry folk, and they were searching for a new script yadda yadda. They were bullshit reasons but they got him out of town and he stayed away a lot longer than he should have hence the appropriately named 'I am an idiot please don't leave me' dinner.

Checking his watch, Blaine panicked. It was almost 8:00pm. Was Sam even coming home? What if he was with someone – No! He scrubbed his brain of that thought before it could fully form. Sam would come home. He had to. Blaine paused before drifting to the covered easel in the far end of their apartment. It squatted there like a live thing oozing pain and despair. Fingering the stiff sheet he contemplated taking a peek at what lay beneath. It was the easiest way to know what Sam was thinking or feeling but he dreaded looking at Sam's paintings. After the first couple of times, the tiny wrist and blood splattered candy bracelet had become a staple in his nightmares. Shaking, he dropped it and walked away. Picking up his phone, his lips lifted at the lit screensaver he flipped through photos of them over the past three years. Was there greater torture than the memory of a time you'd been perfectly happy and how easily a strangers' decision had ripped it apart?

"Blaine?" Spinning around Blaine's smartphone bounced off his foot racing across the floor. "I thought you were still in Toronto?"

This wasn't how they greeted each other, not after a month apart. This distance was new and awkward and totally his fault. Apologies were about to pour unchecked out of him when another guy stepped in behind Sam. Blaine recognized him immediately.

Jonah. Fire Marshal. Gorgeous. All round douchebag.

He was always at the fringes of their life watching, waiting. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was waiting for. His eyes followed Sam like a fat kid after cake.

"And I thought you were working?" Blaine sniped. "Guess we were both wrong."

"Work? No." Sam stepped forward. "I was supposed to watch Ella but Rachel decided she wasn't ready to leave her alone just yet so they cancelled date night."

"Well, you are just in time to catch this one." Jonah said surveying the room a mocking twisted curl to his lower lip. "I'd better head out." They hugged. "Goodnight Brian." He yelled.

"It's Blaine." Blaine corrected over the grinding of his teeth muttering, "Asshole" under his breath.

Sam frowned. "What is up with you two?"

Blaine snapped, the fear sitting on his chest making it impossible to breathe. He'd done the desperate single dance and knew the difference between having sex with strangers and making love with the man he loved. He had no intention of ever going back to that barren emotional wasteland. It made him doubly possessive of Sam and the relationship they had. He'd been wrong to doubt them, wrong to leave but still… "Is he going to be around all the time?"

"What?" This was followed by a very drawn out suspicious, "Why?"

"He's hitting on you."

Sam eyes went wide with believable shock. "Are you kidding me? He's married. We met his wife."

"We met his beard." Blaine swore. "He's all over you all the time, with the eyes and the smiling and the calling me Brian – asshole! – And the late night phone calls."

"He calls about guy stuff, not us kind of stuff."

Ill concealed possessive rage obliterated rational thought when Sam dared to defend him. "If you want to be with him then just admit it." He snarled. "Because this deliberately obtuse thing you do is getting old."

Oh fuck! Too far. You've gone too far, he thought frantically. There should be an entire village of idiots applauding you right now because you might as well just have giftwrapped him and dropped him on Jonah's doorstep.

"You are never mean."

"I am sorry." Blaine uttered but it felt like too late.

"You are never mean or pointlessly cruel. Never with me. In fact you usually treat me like fucking glass, which drives me crazy." Sam inched forward. "And yet after coming home three weeks too late, you've called me stupid and accused me of cheating on you."

Oh God, he's going to leave you. "I am so sorry, Sammy." Apologies at this point were like slapping a Band-Aid over a severed limb.

"What's going on?"

Blaine shook his head miserable.

"Tell me what's going on." Sam insisted. "This isn't about Jonah or me because you know I would never cheat. I would never deceive you in any way. So? What. Is. Going. On?"

They stared at each other silence growing thick; Blaine chewed on his lower lip then relented the horrible news escaping him in a piteous gasp. "Tina's filing for divorce."

"What?" Blaine could see his shock mirrored on Sam's face. He could still hear Tina's voice in his head, devastated but resolute. That more than anything had sent him tearing out of his hotel room and on the first flight back to New York.

"We were just at their wedding. What the hell happened?"

"She said something about irreconcilable differences." Blaine shuffled back sitting down for the first time since he'd arrived five hours ago. "Mike's been travelling. She didn't want to leave the practice." He shrugged. "They drifted apart."

Sam sank onto the couch next to him. Blaine drew his knees to his chest, lacing his chilled hands together. The entire time he'd been listening to Tina, he'd been thinking about Sam. Thinking about how everything had gotten so screwed up. Not in one large fight like you would expect but in tiny little details. He realized how something as simple as an altered morning routine could snowball. Their mornings together had been the highlight of Blaine's day. He woke up before Sam put on coffee for himself and brewed Sam's disgusting white tea before waking him up and they talked through showers and toothpaste and elusive socks and the super long goodbye kiss at the door. It was nothing and yet it was everything. The first time he'd walked out and left Sam asleep had been the beginning of the end. So he hadn't been able to dispute Tina's logic because he could understand exactly how it could happen. To any couple. To them.

"Blaine, look at me." Sam leaned into his space turning his chin until their eyes collided. "They are not us."

"They could be just like us. I have been doing that too. Travelling." He sighed. "Running away because we weren't getting along as perfectly as we used to. I left you alone and I wouldn't blame you if you met someone else."

Sam's eyes softened. "I don't know about Jonah, if he's into me or whatever. I honestly haven't noticed, my gaydar hasn't kicked in yet but I won't hang out with him anymore. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or jealous of any girl or guy."

"He's not just some guy."

"Yes he is just some guy and he's always going to be just some guy and you are always going to be everything." Sam took his hand, playing with his fingers.

Blaine's breath caught in his throat, his hand gripping Sam's harder. "Don't… don't do that, don't let me off the hook so easily."

"Honey," Sam breathed and just like that Blaine was practically in his lap, tucked against his chest. "I love you and I'm still here even though you've been acting like a dick."

"I am sorry." Blaine's words muffled against his neck. Wiggling closer he buried his face in the crook of his neck. Months of fear, struggle and jetlag hit him and he sunk content onto his Sam. He was home.

"You're exhausted so we can hash this all out tomorrow." Sam stroked his hair, nimble fingers massaging his nape. "I hope you weren't cooking." Sam grinned, amusement leaking through his voice. "We didn't refill the extinguishers from last time."

"It was a minor grease fire."

"Yeah minor." Sam snorted. "Well we can have some dessert and a lot of wine."

"Champagne." Blaine mumbled. He had gone all out; now that he wasn't getting dumped he could enjoy it.

"And – " Sam took a deep breath. "We can watch The Notebook."

Blaine's incredulity moved him a fraction off Sam's shoulder. The Notebook was hands down his favorite movie, Ryan Gosling's appeal aside it was the greatest love story ever. He watched it when he was sad and when he was happy, when he was sick and for no reason at all. Sam tolerated it but he'd never offered to watch it before. "Really?"

Sam looked him square in the eye and said, "If you're a bird, I'm a bird."

It was little moments like these that cemented their bond. Blaine could never be this open with anyone else or this insane. Sam knew him, knew the exact right thing to say and do when he was falling apart. "I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." Sam tapped the side of his head. "Don't forget it again."

Blaine fell back on the couch as Sam went to the kitchen then he shot back up. "Speaking of birds, what is wrong with that bird?" He waved in the general direction of the terrace.

"Petey's molting."

"Petey the parrot?"

"Actually he's a cockatoo."

"Sam."

"I know."

"We have a dog, a one eyed cat, two hamsters and a molting bird." Blaine counted mentally. "And a turtle. Sam…"

"I know. I know and Wile E is the last one I promise."

Blaine drew up his legs to make room for him. The bottle, two flutes and the double chocolate torte were placed around the coffee table and he popped the cork and topped off the glasses while Sam set up the movie.

"I love you."

Sam turned giving him an easy smile. "I know you do. And it's okay for you to let me take care of you every once in a while." He sat next to him, Blaine once again pushing up against him. "I won't break."

"I can try." Blaine said meekly. He probably wouldn't. Taking care of Sam was his personal kink. He could hear the movie start up but Sam's hand was tangled in his hair softly scraping his scalp.

"You won't leave me again." It was both command and plea, sexy as hell. Blaine loved all of it. The familiar tightness in his chest and groin, the ache for those soft lips that never went away. Just before Sam kissed him, there was a banging at the door.

"Christ," Blaine swore. "I cannot catch a break."

Sam laughed dropping a quick kiss on his lips, just a little taste; it's not nearly enough.

Rachel and Puck burst through the open doorway pushing a sleek stroller. They were mid whispered fight, Blaine and Sam's stares bouncing between them.

"I'm not leaving her here. She's not ready."

"You mean you are not ready. She will be asleep for hours."

"You don't know that. She could wake up any second and miss her mommy. It could scar her for life."

"Rach, they are Ella's honorary, gay, Christian godparents. She couldn't ask for better." Puck pointed at Sam. "This one knows baby CPR.

Rachel blustered then countered with, "They've been drinking. You want me to leave my baby with a couple of drunks." Turning she hissed. "I don't mean that, I love you guys."

"I haven't touched a drop." Sam stepped in. "We can watch her for a couple of hours."

Puck lit up. "I miss spending time with you. Okay?" He cajoled. "Let's leave her here for an hour tops, maybe two." The look Rachel threw him should have peeled off his skin. "I meant one - one hour."

It was the incredibly cheesy; "I love my princess but I miss my queen" line that finally got Rachel out the door without her baby. Sam was still laughing as he locked up behind them. "Never ever say that to me."

"Ditto." Blaine tilted his head staring up at him as Sam slipped his arms around his waist. "Baby CPR? Really?"

"I'm like an iceberg. You have only touched the tip. "He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Speaking of tips…"

"Wait." Blaine pushed against Sam's chest halting his descent. "I can feel her eyes on me."

"Honey," Sam choked out a laugh. "She's asleep and even if she wasn't, she's three months old she can't recognize her own face in the mirror and even if she could she can't talk."

Blaine hesitated and Sam caved.

"Okay. I will put her down in our room."

Blaine caught the baby monitor Sam tossed at him only knowing what it was when a strange melodic tune drifted through its speakers as he was playing connect the dots with the condensation on his glass. Draining the bubbly liquid in one swallow he followed the sound of the music.

"Hey" He squinted in the muted lighting. Sam sat cross-legged on the bed wielding a small curved instrument. Helpless he drew closer not sure if he was drawn by it, Sam, Ella or the strange combination they all made.

"It's a mandolin." Sam whispered answering his unasked question. "She kinda likes it."

The stroller Rachel had brought Ella in was parked just inside their bedroom door. It took Blaine awhile to figure out what was bothering him. His eyes flicked between the stroller, Sam and the fancy looking - bright red - baby-holding crib that was beside their bed. He was pretty sure it didn't come in with Puck who'd been carrying the bulging yellow bag with blue butterflies. So it had to be…theirs? His eyes shot back to Sam. Oh God, his boyfriend had baby fever. Blaine should have seen this coming Sam had been singlehandedly supporting the pet rescue down the street and he'd offered to stop with Wile E far too easily.

Approaching him cautiously, Blaine tried to steady his breathing. Don't panic!

He pointed at the crib… bassinet… weird baby thing taking over his vision. "Is that ours?" Oh hell! Super high voice. Dial it down. "Ah! I mean we aren't at ba-babies stage yet right?" Why the hell wasn't he saying anything? "Sam? Why do we have this?"

"Well I thought that we could use Ella as practice for when we have kids of our own."

"What?" The shriek escaped him.

Sam hushed him tossing the oval instrument onto the bed. He checked on the sleeping baby taking an inordinate amount of time tucking the absurd amount of blankies around her oblivious to the raging emotional storm brewing behind him. Blaine watched him stunned, confused; he hadn't thought about his blankie in years but God did he need it now. In a daze, he fell into step behind Sam worrying the entire way as his hand was taken and he was dragged out the room.

He wasn't ready for this. They needed more time together just the two of them especially after the chaotic past year. But it made sense, you know, he was in love with the freaking Pied Piper. First came all the animals, then the tiny humans, lots and lots of them. The moment Sam closed the door behind them he blurted out. "I am not freaking out." He was. He really was until Sam – the jerk - burst out laughing, great big guffaws that came with tears and him leaning weakly against the wall.

"You should see your face." He chortled wiping up tears. "The crib is Rachel's. She dropped it off last week just in case."

"Dammit Sam." Blaine shoved him, his heart slowly creeping back down his throat and he stalked off, irate. Strong arms slipped round his waist spinning him then Sam's hot mouth was on his, nipping and sucking at his lips.

"I am not ready." He confessed between kisses.

"I know." Sam hugged him closer. "You hold Ella like she's about to explode."

"She does explode - from both ends." Blaine grumbled. "But you want kids."

"Yes. Eventually."

Blaine knew it. Pied Piper. He pulled back. "Can you give me some sort of timeline?"

"God. I don't know." Sam's big hands cupped his jaw. "When we are more settled… Maybe five years."

Five years still felt too soon. "About five years or definitely five years. You know we can't just wake up one day and have one. There are so many complicated options for two guys." Blaine's mind was racing faster than he could keep up. "Do we adopt or use a surrogate? Whose sperm do we use?"

"Honey." Sam rambled against his lips, impatient hands popping the buttons on Blaine's shirt. "Shut up."

"Okay." Blaine mumbled sinking into his kiss.


	11. Year Ten: Aluminum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One

"Oh look. Breadstix!" Blaine touched the windowpane twisting in his seat until the longstanding establishment fell behind them. "How is it still standing? It's been up at least 30 years." Settling back in, he glanced at his companion who was still quiet, eyes focused on the road with brutal intensity. "Thirty long years, so many memories made in that place." He continued keeping up the idle chatter, fingers drumming absently on his lap. "Remember my victory party? The Wolverine debate?" His prompt went unanswered "Sam?" His boyfriend merely grunted nose damn near bumping the steering wheel. Well, he'd finally gone non-verbal; Blaine expected sign language to start up any second.

Since they left New York, Sam had been getting quieter and quieter, much to Blaine's surprise since it was on his insistence that they'd come back to the Midwest. It wasn't his first choice, not by a long shot. Since moving away after graduation, he'd been so completely seduced by the glamour and grime of the big city that he'd had never looked back, never once had he missed his hometown. There was nothing left for him here. After ten long years, New York was their home.

"We could have dinner there later for old times sake?" Sam made a non-committal sound. What was a 'Yes' or 'No'? The only characteristic it held for sure was disinterest.

Getting a little antsy in the face of his fellow passenger's continued silence, he muttered under his breath, "This is not Paris." Blaine knew he was being a little bitchy but dammit he'd made plans. Romantic anniversary plans. In the city of freaking love. Their ten-year anniversary was a big deal. They'd made it. Ten years together and he loved Sam even more now than he had before and he was so ridiculously over-the-top proud of him. Sentiment, he'd planned on sharing after he dragged him across the ocean, plonked him on top of the Eiffel Tower and thrust a glass of Champagne in his hand so they could toast the next ten years. With all that in mind, he'd been going nuts planning them the perfect vacation when Sam came home one day and insisted he be the one to take care of it. And here they were in fucking Ohio…not that he resented the change…too much. Every day they spent together was a miracle. Yadda Yadda! But - Paris! His heart wept.

"This is the first year we can afford to toss caution to the wind and go wherever we want." He continued in the same vein. Sam was finally done with college and he'd gotten promoted to Program Coordinator at work. They didn't have to keep such a close eye on their finances anymore; sure they still had the odd loan and credit card debt but after months of late nights and hard work he wanted to celebrate.

"This will be better than Paris. I promise." Sam replied absently as they rolled to a stop at a red light.

Blaine glanced over incredulous. "Are those words?" He teased. "Strung together to form a whole sentence?"

Slipping his hand round his nape, Sam dragged him over kissing him thoroughly. His ability to get him to shut up was unparalleled.

Appeased by his undivided attention, Blaine ignored his smug look and relaxed. "Eyes on the road." He instructed. Staring out the window at the changing landscape the rest of the way to his parents' house. Oddly familiar, it awakened nothing in him. As cheesy as it sounded, he no longer belonged in this place; his life was wherever Sam was. The beautiful life they'd built together.

They pulled up, Sam whipping out a key and punching in the security codes he'd gotten off Cooper, Blaine wondering how long he'd been planning on coming home. Leaving him to get their stuff he strolled up the stairs, fingertips dancing over the finely polished staircase, Blaine wandered into his old room in his childhood home. It appeared frozen in time. A mausoleum to his younger self, everything still so perfectly preserved that he expected a younger version of him to barge in stressing out about Kurt and Sectionals. Snatching a snow globe off a shelf, he sent flakes flying over the Empire State building with a twist of his wrist watching as they slowly floated to the bottom. The faintest whiff of teenage longing still hang in the air from so many years ago, the desire for a future both terrifying and unformed. All his heart had beaten for; New York. NYADA. Broadway. The mad scrabble to fulfill a powerful dream, find his place in this world and then - there'd been Sam. He'd changed everything. With a final shake, Blaine placed the glass orb back on the shelf. That might have been a pivotal time in his life but he'd never trade who he was now for who he'd been then. Every single experience shaped him into the man he was now, with a life he loved, with the man he loved beyond all comprehension. Smiling faintly, he dropped onto the bed and leaned back on his elbows. God, how he'd changed. They – they had changed.

Soft curses drifted up from where Sam was bringing up their luggage until he barged through the door with a very disgruntled, "Dude."

"I was on my way."

"Right." Skeptical, Sam dropped the last of their bags to the floor and sank to the bed next to him, fists clutching the bedspread. Blaine studied his posture; kind of stiff, edging into twitchy territory. Something was going on with him but he couldn't put his finger on it. Rather than coming right out and asking, he rubbed his hand down his back, rested his head on his shoulder. Breathed.

If the past year had taught him anything, it was this, let Sam deal with his demons however he saw fit, step in when he needed him. It was hard to let him be sad or watch him struggle or to accept that Ava's death had left a blot on their lives, irrevocably changing them both but it was what it was. Sam was quieter, more introspective, he still had nightmares sometimes and he still woke up to paint after them but in a lot of ways he was stronger, shouldered responsibility easier. Instead of running scared like he had before, Blaine adapted around him, gave him space and silence when he needed it. He attempted to bridge the gap between their worlds, spent more time with his do-gooder friends in their futile endeavors to save the planet and every one in it. He'd even tagged along to his grief support group. A huge mistake as it turned out because it had been brutal, sad and hard and so painful. That one-hour had stretched into a thousand and Blaine left the session flogged raw by other people's fears and their pain. He wondered how Sam could bear it. Dogged by the endless broken weeping, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a week. When the next session rolled around, he was torn when Sam asked him not to go.

"But - I want to be there for you." He insisted blocking out the hallelujah chorus in his head.

"You are." Sam said simply. "Honey, you are my one good thing. Knowing you're here waiting for me helps me get through it. Besides," He turned, palm resting on the doorjamb. "I think you did enough helping Rhys at the coastal cleanup."

Blaine had stepped in at the last second to fill in with the small environmental activist group when Sam was stuck at work and he'd given way more than enough. "Those loafers were priceless."

When Sam burst out laughing, it was like the sun coming out. "I know." He lingered eyes soft, lips quirked. "I love you."

As long as it got him to smile like that, the suede sacrifice was worth it. "I love you too."

It might have been that day or any of the many that followed that provided little revelations into Sam's character, testaments to how much he had grown and while Blaine had always loved being the dominant partner and making all the major decisions, it was time he let go of the reins and let Sam take care of them for a while. It had led to some interesting places in their relationship, decision to come to Ohio notwithstanding.

"Come on." Sam instructed with a slight tug taking to the floor in one easy move. Cross-legged, he gestured for Blaine to join him.

Copying his stance, Blaine sat in front of him. "What are we doing?"

"I – uh" Sam started before drifting off into an incomprehensible mumble. He squeezed his eyes tight, cleared his throat, and started again in a low rasp. "I know this isn't your fantasy setting and maybe we should have gone to Paris like you wanted but it made sense to me for us to come back to the beginning… where we started…" Blaine could practically feel the tension running through him from their connected hands. "I made you so many promises that day and I was scared sometimes that I'd break them and we wouldn't end up here together. I am still this guy," He indicated the t-shirt, worn jeans and the flannel shirt. "And yet I've changed so much and it's all because of you." Sam frowned like he was disappointed in himself. "Did that make sense?"

"Yes. It did." Blaine reassured, his love's face blurry through his tears. "After ten years Sammy, I understand you perfectly." He desperately hoped this was all leading where he thought it was leading. Not really listening to Sam anymore, he watched his body language at the same time trying to talk himself down, just in case. It wasn't a big deal as long as they were still together…they loved each other…they didn't have to get mar-

The second the small ring box popped into sight, equal parts relief and blinding happiness poured out of him. "Yes." Who'd he been kidding with that spiel? He wanted to marry him, had been thinking about this moment for years.

All the tension leached out of Sam and he threw him a shaky smirk, "Can I actually ask you first?"

Sniffing, Blaine nodded.

"Will you…"

"Yes." Reverence filled his voice. He never needed the perfect words. He just wanted him. Forever.

"Blaine." His boyfriend – scratch that – fiancé exasperated.

"Sam."

"I've been practicing this speech for hours." He blew out a breath smiled, a hint of tears in there somewhere. "Do you even want to see the ring?"

Blaine didn't care about the ring although in the back of his mind the reassuring Tiffany blue had registered. He surged to his knees, cupping his face in his hands, thumbs tracking over his face, captivated by the subtle changes, firmness in his jaw, determination in his eyes. His lips… his kiss…still perfect. "I want everything with you." He vowed sliding onto his lap; indulging in slow sweet kisses and sweeter 'I love you's.

Later, he raised the platinum band, examining the inscription. The simply engraved 'Yours' catching his eye, stealing his breath. It was beautiful. Timeless.

Boneless under him, Sam watched him. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. Sammy, it could have been a Cracker Jack ring and I would still love it." Blaine stared down at him all long limbed every little bit precious. "I love you." He murmured leaning over. The kiss was long and lazy, and when it ended,

he chuckled, "Now that you've put a ring on it…is it a good time to tell you that I don't get your impressions?"

Sam froze for a fraction of a second, and then he lunged threatening to get him a decoder ring, Blaine ended up on his back keeping his hand well out of reach. The ring was never coming off. A particularly enthusiastic scrabble sent a lamp crashing to the floor. It almost – almost – drowned out the knocking at the door.

Blaine sat up damn near cracking his head open on Sam's chin. "Who is that?"

"Shit!" Sam rushed getting to his feet. "We'll be right there." He yelled over the insistent tapping. "I lost track of time."

"Time?" Blaine swallowed a yawn. A quick glance out the window showed night was falling. He didn't care, he was happy on this carpet. Whoever it was Sam could take care if it. "Time for what? We don't have to be anywhere, right?"

"Your parents are here."

"What?" Blaine shrieked – he would later maintain that it was a manly shriek. "You invited them?"

"Yes…" Sam paused one leg poised as he scrabbled into a different set of clothing. "…and my parents…and a couple of other people." He darted into the bathroom after imparting that awful news. "It was supposed to be a surprise." He excused when he came back standing over him. "Why aren't you moving?"

The events of the past few months coalesced and revealed their true purpose.

"This is why you've been so nice to them all year." Blaine oozed suspicion.

It had started with a lot of questions, Sam's inquiring about his parents' travel plans, specifically, if their flights were landing or taking off anywhere on the Eastern Seaboard.

Blaine preoccupied with his latest argument with Artie had outlined the bare bones of his parents' plans he'd gleaned from conversations with his mom. Then he asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"I want to meet them." Sam replied, bottom falling from his world.

Despite Blaine's many excuses the day came around. He'd been a nervous, sweaty wreck leaning over the bathroom sink, attempting to disguise the terror in his eyes.

Sam pushed inside probably wondering if he'd drowned himself in the tub. After a long look at the kohl in his hand he inquired, "Guyliner?" low and gentle like he expected Blaine to fly apart. "I've only seen you wear makeup on stage. What's going on?"

"This is what he expects." Blaine wrenched out as the flimsy pencil snapped in half. "Gay equals girl. Sissy."

"You know that's not true. Honey, you are the strongest person I know."

"Then why do we have to do this? I have nothing to prove to him."

"Because they are not just your family now. They are ours. Just because things were fucked up in the past, doesn't mean we give up on them. We forgive and we start again."

"I hate all this mature crap you learn in therapy." Blaine grumbled.

Sam stood behind him slung his arms round his waist as he'd done so many times before. "Lose the war paint." He coaxed. "You don't need it. You're not alone anymore. I will be with you every step of the way, if it gets weird tonight then we bail. At least we'll have tried."

Blaine was still a little wobbly; the ground wouldn't stop moving under him. Even shaken, he could tell Sam wanted this. It felt like he was building up to something. Expanding his family, securing grandparents for the brood of rugrats he was planning on having (separate freakout). This was important to Sam. He could do it. "I trust you." He murmured.

"Every step of the way." Sam promised tightening his grip. "I won't let go."

The night had been a disaster just not the way Blaine expected. No insults were uttered or gauntlets thrown just long patches of disturbing silence. Sam and his mom's attempts to fill in the gaps in conversation did little to disguise the fact that he and his dad did not speak. The dinner after that one was the same, the brunch they had months later was easier. With each subsequent meeting they worked up to half way decent – thank god for sports - civil conversation.

Blaine guessed it was better than nothing because they were here at his engagement. He didn't dare to hope for more than his father's presence, a couple of years ago he would have bet his life this would never happen.

Looking up at Sam now, Blaine found himself mirroring the same words from that night. "I trust you." He did, with his heart, with their life, with everything.

Sam smiled and held out his hand. "I won't let go."


	12. Year Ten: Aluminum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two

Blaine rolled the slim fragile stem between his fingers; damp from condensation he switched the flute to his other hand even now taking a peek at the glimmer of the platinum on his left hand. Tearing his gaze from lingering lovingly on the ring, he took a gander at the crowd that had gathered for their engagement party. It was a smaller, more intimate gathering than the last party they'd had. Growing responsibilities had kept most people away though he had no doubt they'd all be able to pop in for the wedding.

Wedding.

He was getting married and he had his heart set on soon. Closing his fist, Blaine focused on the weight of their bond. It was reassuring especially in the middle of the heart wrenching conversation he was currently having. "Tina…"

"Stop looking at me like that, you'll make me cry." She insisted, her hands pulling the pale yellow napkin to shreds. She seemed to have shrunk since the last time they talked, the past few months harder than she'd let on. "I just - I need some distance, okay?"

"There's such a thing as too much distance." Blaine couldn't stop pushing her. "It's bad enough that you were in Chicago but Seoul is half way around the world. This is an overreaction to your divorce. A Eat, Pray, Love thing." He pleaded. "You need to run towards your friends not away from us. Taking that job…moving a thousand miles away isn't a solution. Do you even know anybody over there?" He asked a little desperately. Right until they signed the papers, Blaine had hoped that Tina and Mike would fight to stay together but the divorce had gone off without a hitch when neither party contested. He hated it, first Kurt now her. It was like a bomb had gone off and everyone was scattering to the four corners.

"I have some distant - really distant – relatives over there." She gave him a sad resolute smile that he instantly hated. "That's the point of a fresh start."

"But - why couldn't you start over in New York? We could find you an apartment and a job and we could hang out so you wouldn't have to be so…"

"Alone?" She supplied then studied him for a moment. "Blaine, I am alone. It's time I made peace with it and myself but we are at your engagement party so stop bringing us down. I came here to drink and dance and celebrate with you in case I can't make it to the wedding."

"Don't even say that. You are my pack mule remember? And I am so holding you to that promise."

Laughing she leaned into him, Blaine slinging an arm round her waist.

"You're happy right?" She asked in a warm gust on his neck.

He glanced over to where Sam was talking to Sugar's daughter. Clad in an ice blue princess gown and age-inappropriate double strand pearls, the mini diva gestured mid story, Sam crouched in front of her nodding like she was imparting great wisdom. "I am. Unbelievably."

"So? When are you getting one of those?"

Blaine groaned and pushed away. "Can I get married first before I get this 'have a child' agenda crammed down my throat?"

"What's the matter with you? Kids are great and Pepper's adorable."

Don't even get him started on Sugar naming her daughter Pepper. It was too ridiculous for words. "She's not adorable." He hissed. Lowering his voice, Blaine stepped closer and whispered, "She's a pint sized she-demon and she's out to get me. Ever since I stepped on her doll and kinda broke it – it was one of those creepy porcelain ones with the eyes that follow you everywhere -" He shuddered at the memory of the first and only time he'd ever offered to babysit. Could perfectly remember the sound the stupid toy made as it cracked under his feet and the way Pepper looked at him with the hugest hurtest blue eyes right before she run off screaming for her Uncle Sam. She had been giving him a crazy side eye ever since and on more than one occasion she told Sam he needed a boyfriend. Not another boyfriend or a better boyfriend. Just a boyfriend, like Blaine didn't exist. "She hates me."

Tina was obviously fighting back giggles at this point. "She's five. She doesn't hate you."

Blaine huffed. He knew better. He'd bought her a new doll, which she continued to ignore just as easily as she was ignoring him. Quite frankly he'd never tried to please a woman so hard in his life.

"Hey, why is this bothering you so much?"

"Look at him," He gestured to where Sam was still talking to Pepper with the laser like focus he brought to every interaction with children. It wasn't just his job; it was a huge part of who Sam was. "He's practically Mr. Mom. What if I can't do it – what if I'm a terrible dad?" Blaine thought his upbringing might have had a lot to do with his disinterest in the tiny humans. Parenting didn't come as naturally to him. Initially, after the millionth freakout had faded, all he cared about was his baby wanted a baby. He'd wanted kids for Sam because he so desperately wanted to give him whatever his heart desired and the more he'd thought about it, the more he'd fixated on a little girl with luminous green eyes just like her daddy's. The creepy doll disaster had brought all his dreams grinding to a halt.

"Don't be stupid." Tina grabbed his arm dragging him around. "I've seen you with Ella and you're doing fine. Just because you have to work at it a little doesn't mean you won't be a great dad."

Rachel and Puck did occasionally drop their offspring off at their apartment as well. Never when Blaine was alone. They always called in advance to make Sam was home. He was fine with it; his boyfriend was better with the crying, pooping, soothing end of nurturing a toddler. Blaine preferred the fun parts when she was all cute and smiling with only two front teeth. He pulled his arm back with a wince. Tina's nails had dug into his arm like she trying to force the truth right into his blood stream. "Ella is the cutest, but let's be honest she's a blob. A sweet natured, gummy toothed, easily pleased blob. They don't stay that age forever. Next thing you know they are thinking and talking and trying to set your boyfriend up with their teacher."

"Or maybe you're just one of those people that loves their own kids and hates everybody else's."

"What? Like Ellie and Dr. Cox? You do realize they were pathological?"

"God!" Tina muttered clearly frustrated with his refusal to be placated. "Try talking to your man."

Swallowing thickly, Blaine nodded, relenting "Why don't I just hop on a one man train to Splitsville?" It was a joke. A bad joke. Obviously. Sam loved him; he wouldn't leave him over it. Besides he knew he had time to adapt…four whole years to figure it out. Even though he sometimes felt like the future was bearing down on him and it left him a little – panicky.

"Well, think fast." Tina warned just as Sam came up behind them. "I'm going to go drink the bar." She said loudly. "Do you think I should apologize to your parents in advance for the sloppy table dance that may go down in an hour or so? No. You know what I will send an email. It is always better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission, anyway."

One of Sam hands lopped round his waist stroking his back the other lifting to tip Blaine's face back. The gentle stroke of long fingers on his cheek slipping down to thumb his jaw, worry playing around his eyes. "You okay?"

Blaine caught his breath leaning into him. 'Till death do up part' was going to be a long fucking time if they didn't communicate. "I don't want to be the sucky parent." He confessed.

Sam's lips morphed into a small barely-there smile. "What do you mean?"

That little bit of prompting pushed him over. "If we have kids you'll be 'Daddy' and I'll be 'Father' like Captain Von Trapp in Sound of Music. They'll run to you with every little thing, booboos and first kisses and prom night and I'll be the stern guy that doles out punishment." It's not like Blaine didn't like kids... As cute as they were they were mostly perpetually sticky and irritating and quite frankly mind numbingly boring.

"Honey, is this because Pepper doesn't like you?"

"Yes!" He muttered, feeling naked and stupid. To his credit, Sam didn't laugh; instead he kissed him and kissed him hard until ill-timed throat clearing ruined the moment.

"Blaine? A word." Every time his father said his name, Blaine unconsciously straightened his spine, tried to look less – gay, less of a disappointment. A mean achievement since he'd been caught with his tongue in another man's throat. Turning slowly, he faced his stern guy that one that had doled out punishment all his life, like he'd summoned him with that thought alone.

"Sure." His hand tightened in Sam's then he let go following him to the deck like a lamb to slaughter. Standing in silence, he braced for the axe to fall. Up till now his father had been surprisingly civil engaging in conversation with Sam's parents who were a perpetual delight - it was easy to see where Sam got his charm – now he was here giving him the look. Blaine resisted the urge to shuffle his feet; raising his head he looked him in the eye.

Light from the interior fell across his father's face in vertical slashes highlighting the dark curly hair and thick implacable eyebrows exactly like his own. Now peppered with gray, with new creases carving out grooves in his face, Blaine found himself taken aback by the visual evidence that he was getting older, totally unprepared for the realization that his father was just a man, human, flawed. In his head, he'd always been larger than life casting a wide stern shadow. As a child, he had worshipped him; loved this Superman among men. He'd thought his reaction to Blaine's coming out had obliterated any lingering feelings he may have had for the man but in the face of his impending metamorphosis he could still feel it. Love. It still lurked underneath the floorboards of his soul absolutely terrified to reveal itself and be defined as weakness.

He was about to speak, say anything to fill the deafening silence when his father said. "He's a good man. Solid."

Blaine turned finding his fiancé in the crowd watching them much as Sam had been pushing for him to get closer to his parents he knew if he gave the signal he'd rush over and run interference. He was goodness. Nothing could have described him better. Giving a subtle headshake he turned back to his dad whatever he had to say, he could handle it. He wasn't alone. "He is."

"He loves you." He muttered into the quiet, speculative look deepening. "I was informed in no unequivocal terms that he was seeking my blessing not my permission, he planned on marrying you either way. I didn't want to give it until I talked to you." Then looked at him, eyes boring deep. "Do you love him?"

Blaine was still stuck on Sam talking to his parents about this – it was an amalgamated messed up-sweet gesture, they were pushing thirty for god's sake - but he didn't hesitate. "I do."

"Then here's my blessing." His dad said removing the heavy gold signet off his finger and holding it out to him. "I don't know how it's supposed to work with two men. But you can give it to him as a welcome to the family."

"Grandpa's ring?" Blaine said under his breath, completely bowled over. It had moved from his grandfather to his father – now his? "Shouldn't it go to Cooper?" He was the oldest son. The family ring always went to the oldest son it was never supposed to be his.

"As long as we're altering tradition - what does your mother call it - the new normal?" He grimaced. "Take it, son. Congratulations."

Blaine clenched his fist around the ring tucking it deep into his pocket. Sam would love it. A symbol of family, tradition, acceptance, it was better than any ring Blaine would have bought him. "Thank you…Dad." They were far from healed but he accepted Sam that was a good start.

After a minute, he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and wandered out further into the garden, his hand slipping in to caress the cool metal already planning how to give it to Sam. His whole Paris plan wasn't entirely lost; there was room in his itinerary for a dramatic engagement. Reengagement? Co-engagement? For once he could tease Sam about all his ass-kissing paying off. Settling onto one of the swing sets, Blaine sent it rocking with a kick. Music floated softly on the night air, the party still going on inside. Head and shoulders above the rest he could see Sam caught between his mom and sister, every once in awhile he'd look over the crowd with a slight frown probably trying to find him. Pulling out his phone, Blaine shot him a quick text; he didn't want him to worry.

Tilting back his head, he marveled at the night sky, millions of pinpricks stabbing through deep dark velvet. It was like the stars had come out just for them. It truly was the perfect night made even more special by the presence of family and friends. He had yet to hear from his brother but there was no doubt, flying high on his superstar status, Coop would send an extravagant gift and video message form framed perfectly in the Malta sunlight where he was shooting his latest movie. Blaine doubted he gave three fucks about the ring or what it symbolized. Charming but self-involved, Cooper had already been through two engagements and almost made it through the last one. Blaine would talk to him anyway because that the kind of guy he was.

He looked down at the swish of feet on grass. "Hey." He murmured with a welcoming smile.

"You just got engaged. Should you be out here moping?" Kurt dropped onto the swing next to his.

"Not moping." Blaine laughed. "Thank you for coming by the way and setting this whole thing up." He indicated the lights and flowers and caterers. "Sam couldn't have pulled it off on his own."

"Poor guy called me in a full blown panic. He's unfazed by tropical diseases but ask him to pick a centerpiece and he totally flips out." Their soft laughter filled the backyard then tapered off. "Honestly, he did me a favor. I welcomed any excuse to come home."

"Home? Kurt, your life's amazing. You have a successful fashion line, a huge gorgeous apartment in Milan and, a slew of male model boyfriends who I don't necessarily approve of but they are male models. The one you've been showing off all night seems sweet. I almost feel bad for him."

"What? Why?"

"He's obviously yet another of your Adam substitutes."

Kurt knew he was right which is why he was only a little put out. "Come on." He defended weakly. "He couldn't be further from Adam if I tried and I did try. Believe me. Liam's a freaking ginger, carpet to drapes."

"Way more info than I needed to know." Blaine muttered at the startling visual. "But you can't wiggle your way out of this one, I talked to him, that accent he's English."

"I can't be expected to avoid every hot Englishman on Planet Earth. I am not God. Besides after the fiasco with Dave I needed a palate cleanser."

"Fiasco?" Blaine snorted holding back the 'I told you so'. Of all the terrible ideas anybody, anywhere had ever had - dating your high school bully – seriously. It was destined to end badly. "Kurt, you destroyed him. I run into him a few weeks ago, he was openly weeping at the Jamba Juice on 5th."

"Maybe on some level I can agree that I wasn't over the whole cowering in the bathroom for most of high school. We both agreed it was a mistake."

Blaine doubted the breakup was mutual, as attested by the blubbering mess that was formerly Dave Karofsky.

"Doesn't matter. Okay?" Kurt snapped back unhappily. "God is punishing me. I swear some random cat followed me all the way home last week. The word is getting out. Kurt Hummel Spinster."

Dropping his hand onto Kurt's shoulder, Blaine squeezed "C'mon Kurt, stop being so defeatist. You're a catch." Blaine pressed. "There is a guy out there for you. I know Adam would take you back in a heartbeat if…"

"You don't need to do this." Kurt sighed, the kick of his feet sending the ill-used swing rocking. "I broke up with Adam for you and I wasn't especially nice about it. At the time I thought that I still belonged with my high school sweetheart, which was beyond dumb. We never even started. Sam came home and you run back to your golden boy. It was a bad call on my part, water under the bridge…" He rolled his eyes. "But – I've had a lot of time to think about why I did it. You were my excuse. I wasn't running towards you as much as I was running away from him. He wanted so much at once, marriage and kids and my career was just starting to take off. He needed white picket fence guy and I wanted to be the next Calvin Klein. Then he was walking out the door, ultimatums were flying at me, I panicked and you were there like you always were. Cue mess of epic proportions." He paused, sighed. "Now I'm rattling around in my perfectly furnished apartment in Milan with my stupid gorgeous model boyfriend and I just miss him..."

Dragging the balls of his feet, oxfords digging up the soft ground, Blaine refrained from re-spilling his apology. God knows he'd apologized enough over the past five years. "Don't make me give you the talk I gave Jake." He deflected.

"Maybe you should give me the talk. I mean…look at them." He gestured sounding incredibly wistful. "They are kind of perfect together. Who saw that coming?"

I did! Blaine wanted to crow. He was so taking credit for all of it.

The couple stood in the middle of the crowd, Jake leaning over to whisper something in his ear, Ryder laughing. They'd been that way all evening, managing to engage in scintillating conversation with their varied classmates and friends without ever leaving each other's side. Despite the distance between them that a less attentive person would put down to a long friendship, their connection was unmistakable. They were not overly demonstrative but they moved in tandem as if to music only they could hear. Their love was as quiet as Sam and Blaine's was loud. They'd even been married a couple of months and tonight was the first time any of them had heard about it including Puck who was still complaining. Blaine understood how they would have needed the distance and the quiet to repair their relationship.

"I can't believe they got married." Kurt said as their matching gold bands glinted. Jake tugging at Ryder's ear as the latter gave him a big smile. "How the hell did I get left behind? You and Sam are already an old married couple, which is both tragic and romantic as hell. Santana and Britt got hitched; The Puckermans are happier than ever, Sugar's having another baby…is there something in the water?" He queried.

"You're young. There is still time." Blaine tried to reassure him, distracted because Sam was approaching them. When he stopped besides them, Blaine tilted his head back to receive his kiss.

"Hey," He murmured against his lips.

"I've been looking for you."

"You found me."

"Yeah. I did." Sam lifted a hand he trailed the pads of his fingers across his cheek. "And honey," He kissed him again. "We got problems. That tough ass crowd wants a wedding; their cold little hearts are calling for cake and vows and dancing. The only way we can elope is if we take everyone with us. All of them."

"You can't elope." Kurt shrieked. The E word fell from his lips like a dirty word. "I mean please don't elope. None of my business. Got it." Kurt spun on his heel and left them alone, Blaine resolving to check on him later.

"You want to elope?" Blaine asked carefully seeing all his plans going up in flames.

"Oh hell," Sam muttered, realization dawning. "You want a white wedding."

"I do." Blaine admitted.

"Okay. I was thinking Barbados at sunset…Just the two of us but we can do your thing…"

"I will find a happy compromise I promise. You won't have to do a thing." Blaine said really meaning 'just show up and stand where I tell you'.

"So it's like that, huh?" Sam smiled like he could see right through him. "Cool. I will do as you say. Dictator."

He appreciated Sam not teasing him about it, calling him a girl or insisting that big weddings were for breeders.

"I guess that sort of fixes your Pepper problem as well."

"How?" Blaine leapt at the chance for redemption.

"Ask her to be flower girl. Instant forgiveness. She'll love you forever."

"It can't be that simple."

"She's a carbon copy of her mom. She loves pretty things and being in the spotlight. Oh and she's five years old. It is that simple."

"Really?" Blaine mused. "I hadn't really planned for a flower girl."

"You're already planning? It's been three hours."

"I have been planning for this on and off for ten years." He said with little thought. "When we were good, I went little nuts with booking the perfect hall and having the perfect date and the perfect vows…when we weren't doing so great I planned less."

"You wrote your vows? Already?"

"Yes." Blaine replied even though to call them vows didn't really encompass their magnitude. The miles of words were chronicled in a leather bound notebook; it read more like a journal, a telling of their journey. Every feeling Blaine had ever had for or about Sam was poured onto those pages. Some tearstained, covered in slashes of ink, others crisp around the edges from where he'd gotten drunk and tried to burn it before he came back to his senses and stomped on the orange flame. It's value was immeasurable even the points that were tough to read. It was their story, for better or worse.

"Guess I've got some catching up to do." Sounding dazed, Sam's mouth brushed his temple and he crashed onto the spot Kurt had vacated taking his hand linking their fingers. "So before all the crazy wedding stuff. Are we going to move?"

Yeah that. The topic Blaine had been willfully avoiding for weeks. Artie was tempted by the idea of being attached to a large studio, blockbusters and starlets. He made the argument that movies were their business; they should be in LA with the fickle Hollywood sign shining down on them. It didn't help that everybody else was also moving. Brittany's act had taken off and she'd long since moved to Vegas, Santana leaving with her. When Puck's screenwriting career started moving him west, Rachel got an agent, guest starred in a couple of TV shows and he could feel the pull of stardom drag them across the continent. The four of them had been the last stalwart defense against change. Jake and Ryder had made Boston their home but who ever really knew with those two. Marley was still in Chicago and so was Mike. Tina was leaving. "I don't know. New York's our home and you've got all your kids at the center. They all love you."

"Well, I love you." Sam said quietly. "I will miss them like crazy but if you need to move and go all Hollywood then we'll move. I can get another job."

Blaine rested their foreheads together, Sam's fingers threading into the hair at the base of his neck. He knew how much those kids meant to Sam for him to even offer to leave them behind… His fiancé was amazing. He smiled, as the f word rolled off his tongue real easy, Blaine had a feeling husband would be even easier. A decade into their story, the pain and the heartache, the hope and the all-consuming love, looking at him now, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. "I love you, Sammy."

"I love you too."

Fin.


End file.
